


S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy Blues

by emofitz (morbid_beauty)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Mental Illness, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, SHIELD Academy, Slow Burn, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 01:18:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18022061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morbid_beauty/pseuds/emofitz
Summary: Jemma has a crush on her new friend Daisy, who's on and off again with Lincoln. Fitz has a crush on his best friend Jemma, who's hella gay. Elena is a bad bitch, emphasis on both of those words. Mack is where he needs to be.(Or: the one where no one goes to class and everyone kisses everyone else.)





	1. Jemma and Daisy

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone is at least 21-years-old. I've tried to tag anything that may be potentially upsetting but please let me know if there's anything else I should tag. Enjoy <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma bumps into Daisy, who's upset over her breakup with Lincoln, and tries to comfort her. Daisy decides they should be friends.

Jemma Simmons and Daisy Johnson meet in the middle of winter. The weather is unseasonably forgiving to the campus of S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy that afternoon. Health-conscious genius-level scientists go on jogs and future elite super spies sulk outside on afternoons like this.

Daisy sits against a wall. Behind her dorm, facing the barren trees behind campus and a back path almost no one takes. It's the least embarrassing place she could find to be sad and chain smoke. She just wants to stop thinking about Lincoln. She wants to think about anything, anyone besides Lincoln.

Jemma uses the path behind the dorm occasionally. She doesn't like the school's facilities for her daily exercise; too many Ops Jocks go to the gym to show off. Instead she jogs every afternoon without fail, at this time, no matter the weather. Jemma isn’t used to seeing anyone else this close to the woods. Daisy immediately catches her eye when she turns the corner.

“Daisy, right?” Jemma says, jogging in place.

Daisy nods, looking at Jemma with a heavy expression. There are a few Inhumans at S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy and everyone knows who they are. Jemma's seen Daisy around, heard vague mention of her. She's beautiful. And right now she's sad; she quickly wipes her cheeks. Jemma can't help reaching out.

“I'm Jemma.” She stops and bends over to reach her toes.

“Yeah, I saw you at the symposium last week,” Daisy says, recognition in her voice. She has a lot of questions. She doesn’t feel like asking them right now, though.

“Didn't know Ops Jocks went to Sci-Tech symposiums.”

“Not all Ops Jocks raise our noses at you Sci-nerds.”

Jemma laughs. “Clearly false, but I suppose you did sacrifice brain for brawn.”

Daisy is startled into a small laugh, some of her hard exterior crumbling. Jemma flashes her a mischievous little smile as she finishes her stretches. She drinks from her reusable water bottle. Daisy jumps to her feet and approaches her.

“That was the smartest way I’ve ever been dissed, thank you,” Daisy says.

“You’re welcome,” Jemma says. She doesn’t understand what’s happening but Daisy’s even cuter up close. “I’m glad it appears to have helped your mood?”

Daisy shrugs one shoulder. She finishes her cigarette, drops it, and stomps it down. “I split up with my boyfriend last night and I'm kinda still hungover from it. I needed a laugh.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

Jemma’s voice is so soft and heartfelt. She touches Daisy’s arm. She's the first person Daisy's spoken to that seemed to care. “He was a jerk,” Daisy tells her. “It's whatever. Can I show you something?” Two seconds later, they’re heading into the trees holding hands. Jemma is so awkward and cute, and Daisy didn't wanna go to the spot alone.

Jemma isn't sure why she follows. Daisy isn't holding her hand very tightly; it's clear Jemma could escape at any moment. But curiosity gets the better of her and soon they're deep in the trees, traveling up a steep incline. Jemma's unsteady on the unfamiliar terrain. Daisy guides her past intrusive roots and boulders drowned by leaves. Eventually the incline plateaus. They're at the top of a hill overlooking a road that leaves campus. On either side of the road are trees that stretch on for miles.

“Looks nicer when it's not the dead of winter,” Daisy says.

“I like it,” Jemma says thoughtfully. “Do you come here often?”

“Used to. With my friends who are in the field now.”

Daisy sits on a boulder and pats the tree stump next to her. Jemma sits down, body still and back straight as a statue.

“We used to come here and smoke all the time,” Daisy says. There are fallen over trees around the small opening, paths of leaves flattened by a thousand steps. “Pull all-nighters,” she continues, “spar sometimes.”

“Sounds like fun, if you're into that,” Jemma says. She's looking around and making mental notes on their surroundings.

“I’m into that,” Daisy says, taking out a pack of cigarettes. Jemma isn't sure why hearing her say that makes her blush. “Tell me about your night, I feel like I've been talking for years.”

“Uh...all I did last night was prepare for the interview portion of my field test,” she says.

Daisy urges Jemma on with a nod. She puts something between her lips. It's definitely not a cigarette. She shields it from the wind to light it and puffs out some smoke. Then she holds the cone-shaped object between her fingers with practiced ease and blows smoke from the corner of her mouth.

Jemma recognizes the skunky smell right away. She had been sharing her anxiety over the different portions of the field test and growing increasingly more curious while Daisy grew more relaxed.

“This'll help,” Daisy says, offering the joint. “If you want, that is.”

“I've done some research about it, I've thought about trying, but…” Jemma starts quickly then trails off. “Sorry.”

“It's cool if you don't want to,” Daisy says, smiling absently. “And hey, you don't need to apologize so much. You know who does need to apologize?”

Daisy starts on a rant about the Inhumans program at S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, which she helped pioneer but was having trouble graduating from. Her powers are too underdeveloped, she doesn't have enough control. That's why she went to the symposium. The Inhumans program has an eagle eye on the work she's doing.

“My research can help you?” Jemma says, surprised. Of course a spy organization would keep things from her unnecessarily.

Daisy nods as she sinks to a seat in the dirt, draping her arm over Jemma's leg. It makes Jemma realize how stiff she's sitting, how very aware of her entire body and surroundings she is. She could never sit on the ground like that. Maybe they can help each other.

“May I?” Jemma says, reaching for the joint tentatively.

Daisy relights it as she continues her story, while Jemma wonders how she factors into Daisy’s current mood. And vice versa. And why it's so easy for them to talk to each other. Daisy pauses to give her smoking instructions, which Jemma doesn’t think she needs. How hard is it to smoke?

“It sounds like you've had a rough week, I'm sorry,” Jemma says, before breathing in weed smoke for the first time.

“Can you stop apologizing?” Daisy says, giggling. “None of this is your fault. It's cool.”

Jemma’s ready to protest when she falls into a coughing fit. She waves the joint frantically. She hears Daisy laugh, feels Daisy's clammy hands on her arms, flails to pick up her water bottle. Daisy keeps smoking like it's nothing.

“Not sorry for the cough,” Jemma barely manages to say. “It's my body's natural response.”

“Exactly!” Daisy says brightly. “Everyone coughs their first time.”

Daisy is so beautiful. Jemma smiles at her for what feels like minutes. Her arm makes the top of Jemma's thigh buzz, and the sound of her laugh makes something twist under Jemma's ribs. The cool air is refreshing and every one of her muscles obey gravity. This is the most calm Jemma has felt since…... Wow.

“I've never felt calm before now,” she says. She giggles at the sound of her own voice, which is slow and slurred.

“Sounds like you just had a revelation,” says Daisy. She offers Jemma the joint again. “Talk to me about it.”

*

Leo Fitz was scandalized by Jemma's retelling of her afternoon with Daisy, and nearly devastated when Jemma started to spend more time with her. Sure Jemma needed more friends that were girls but Fitz wished it wasn't someone from Operations. Someone so much stronger, more interesting, and more attractive than Fitz could ever dream of being.

After the first time the three of them spent time all together, Fitz decided it should be the last. There were still recruiters from various S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities lingering on campus which meant there would be opportunities to mingle, network, yada yada. It isn't Fitz's scene. But it is Jemma's and their unspoken assumption was they'd be lab partners long after the Academy. So they stick together for this kind of thing. In the crowded lobby of the main building, dressed in their best clothes.

Jemma invited Daisy. She explained Daisy's situation to Fitz but he wasn't buying; how can a powered person have ANY trouble in Ops? Fitz heard Daisy was a walking weapon and the research Simmons is doing backs that up.

He watched her with suspicion, as she stole the spotlight and made Fitz the third wheel with her conversations with Jemma. They bounced off each other with troubling ease, Jemma brighter and more energetic than Fitz had ever seen her. Daisy spoke quickly, Jemma was deadpan, and they laughed about things Fitz didn't even understand. Daisy only addressed Fitz directly once.

“So people really call you by your last name and you're not an agent yet?” Daisy asked teasingly. This earned a frown from Fitz, who spoke up before Jemma could.

“Jemma calls me Leo,” he said, smirking at Jemma. “When she's got an attitude.

And before Jemma could be offended, Daisy shot back with, “Maybe I'll call you Leo if ya nasty.” The girls laughed. Fitz chuckled with no humor and left to do homework shortly thereafter.

Now, Fitz thinks maybe the only person Jemma would pay more mind to than her new best girl friend is a boyfriend. They've tiptoed around the subject, drunkenly kissed, spent countless hours side by side. Fitz's crush festered while he waited to be sure she would reciprocate. He's asked a couple people for advice, vaguely. It feels like it's about time to get over himself and go for it. It's either now or he loses his chance.

They're in a study room in Fitz's dorm, pouring over several textbooks. He fidgets with a rubber band until they're alone. He can't study for long, not the way Jemma can, especially as he keeps practicing what he'll say to her. He leans closer to her without realizing, pretending to read over her shoulder.

Jemma raises her eyebrows. “Yes, Fitz?” she says, eyes still on the book.

“I've, uh... got a wild idea,” Fitz says. “Something we could do together.”

Jemma takes a few seconds to carefully place a ruler in her book and slowly shut it so the ruler stays in place. “I'm listening.”

“After the exam…” He holds the rubber band taut, pinching two ends of the tense oval. “We could go out. New bar in town. Have some beers.”

“That doesn't sound so wild! I'll ask Daisy if she's busy.”

Jemma opens her book, places the ruler parallel to the top of the book on the desk, and goes back to scanning its contents. Fitz takes a deep breath to gear up again. He leans in further this time.

“I meant just the two of us,” he whispers. Jemma looks at him. “Like...a date. I want to take you out.”

She doesn't speak for a moment. Then she sighs. She loves this boy, without a doubt. But something isn't quite right. They'd kissed, just because Jemma wanted to try it, and she liked it but not because it was him. She looks at his lips now, thinking about how heavy four letter words seem to be.

Maybe it's because they've been looking at each other for sometime with their faces only inches apart but Fitz feels confidence tight in the center of his chest, pulling him forward to kiss her. For a moment, she kisses back.

But no. Nope. Eew...no. She so wants this to be Daisy.

“I'm sorry, I can't,” Jemma says, panting. She looks at her book. In her head, she says the numbers that correspond with the letters of the words in the sentence she'd last read... “I can't and I think you know why.”

Fitz knows why but it doesn't escape his subconscious until she says this. Jemma, beautiful Jemma, had plenty of suitors in their tenure as best friends. But she never had a boyfriend. And she was definitely, obviously flirting with Daisy. He thinks. Probably.

Daisy is... interesting. And she makes Jemma happy. So, so happy. How could he have been so blind?

“Daisy,” Fitz says, nodding. “Of course. You… You're--”

“You can't tell her,” Jemma says, with an urgency and intensity Fitz is all too familiar seeing from her. “I-I can't tell her. I don't know how to tell anyone. S-so you have to promise me.”

“Hey, hey!” Fitz drapes an arm around her shoulders and holds her against his chest. “Am I not still your best friend?”

She smiles, closes her eyes, listens to his heart. He kisses her forehead. They agree on drinks later, alone, as friends.

*

It's a few weeks into afternoons in the woods and late nights in the lounge that Daisy doesn't respond to Jemma's text.

Jemma doesn't know exactly how long it usually takes Daisy to respond but she does know Daisy isn't in class and three hours is a record for during the day. She's fighting the urge to look through their texts and add up the numbers, then realizes she can do it using her phone bill. She's got the bill and a new Excel sheet open when she finally gets the reply. She taps an imaginary pyramid into her desk: one two three one two one; one two three one two one...

‘can i drop by?’

‘yes, how soon?’

‘in like 5’

Jemma scurries around her room to make it presentable. Mostly she hides the mess in her dresser. Then she makes sure everything that can be at a right angle is, from her books to her posters to her pillows. And that everything that can't be at a right angle, like her lamp and the wheels of her computer chair, fit neatly into their places in the most aesthetically correct way.

It's a relief when Daisy knocks at the door. Jemma opens it and they smile brightly at each other. Daisy opens her arms for Jemma to hug her. At the door, they hold each other.

“Hi,” Daisy says.

“Hello,” Jemma whispers.

“I was busy, and I have to tell you about it.”

Daisy holds Jemma at arm's length for a moment, this soft smile on her face. They head inside, Daisy falling into place on the computer chair and rolling it up to the bed where Jemma sits. Daisy explains that she was busy with Lincoln, and he apologized for everything, and they were back together. She swivels in her seat, looking happier than Jemma can recall ever seeing her. Jemma can't help the frown tugging the lines on her face downward.

“Nothing's gonna change between us,” Daisy says. Can she read Jemma's mind? She hooks her hands around Jemma's knees and tugs herself closer. “You've been real good to me the past few weeks.”

Jemma can't lie and say she's happy for them. She can't tell the truth and say that it feels like she just got a punch in the chest. So she nods, smiles just a bit, and sees Daisy's eyes sparkle with joy. She takes Jemma's hands from her sides and squeezes them, leaning close.

Daisy has to leave. Lincoln is waiting. But she doesn't want to leave Jemma with any doubt that they're anything less than friends. Their eyes linger in each other comfortably until a thought brings Daisy's mouth to action.

“I don't usually tell people this...but I love you,” she says, squeezing her hands.

The words don't spend much time in the air before Daisy's standing up again. She kisses Jemma's cheek and wheels the desk chair back to its place. The butterflies usually in Jemma's stomach are flying up her throat.

“Lincoln's taking me out to dinner and I'm already running late,” Daisy says, thumb pointing out the door. “So unless there's anything else…”

“See you later,” Jemma says, with a polite smile and polite nod.

Daisy leaves Jemma's dorm room. Jemma taps on her mattress. One two three, one two, one. One two three, one two, one. A million things she could've said flood her brain. She moves them around the way she wishes she had time for in real conversations: which option had the highest probability to receive which reaction and why; how her tone affects it; what the reaction she wanted was, exactly. What the reaction Daisy wanted was. Amidst the jumble of words and phrases and platitudes and worries, one thing is clear.

“I love you too,” Jemma says to the chair Daisy had been sitting in. “Should've at least…” But it's too late now.


	2. Always Look Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy's a little too preoccupied with her boyfriend. Jemma makes a friend out of a new student

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments have been very kind, thank you so much! This fic will update most Wednesdays. More on that later.
> 
> Enjoy<3

Jemma doesn't hear much from Daisy in the proceeding weeks, so bumping into her in the lobby of their dorm feels like some sort of sign. Probably. The math-obsessed part of her brain reminds her of randomness and the hopeless romantic tells it to shut the fuck up. Fitz falls back and watches it happen, because he's accepted by now that he’s at best second to Daisy.

“Hey,” Jemma says, approaching her friend. “It's been a minute.”

Daisy stares at her phone. “Hi,” she says.

“How was your weekend?” Jemma's hopeful smile breaks Fitz's heart.

Daisy finally looks at Jemma, with an impatient sigh. “Not too exciting,” she says. It's so nice to see Jemma but Daisy has other priorities. “Have you seen Lincoln? He said he'd meet me in the lobby.”

Jemma sees Fitz shaking his head from the corner of her vision. She knows Lincoln isn't a student at S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy and it's uncommon for non-students to be at the dorms. Perhaps that's why Jemma hasn't seen Daisy? There must be a reason better than...better than how heartless Daisy looks right now. Oblivious to how much Jemma has missed her.

“Of this dorm or the main building?” Jemma says.

Daisy raises her eyebrows, checks her phone again, chuckles. “Boys are so…” She shakes her head, glances at a disapproving Fitz leaning against a wall yards away. Then she rubs Jemma's arm. “Thanks. I'll see you around.”

_When?_ Jemma watches Daisy walk away as Fitz approaches. His hand lands on her shoulder. She supposes it's meant to be comforting. She takes out her own phone and looks at her communications with Daisy since she got back together with Lincoln. Jemma sent her invites and questions and got rare, incomplete, short replies.

“Why don't you tell her?” Fitz asks.

“What?” Jemma says, scrolling through the texts.

“That you're upset she's ditched you.”

“I'm not. That's not…”

It absolutely is. She looks up at Fitz, who's got a pitying expression on his face that Jemma doesn't like at all. Then she thinks about Daisy and how the interaction they'd just had could be erased from the history books with no lasting consequence. She's spent these lonely weeks not alone but with Fitz yet there's an empty ache she feels at the thought of Daisy. Literal super genius Fitz is right. He usually is.

When Jemma starts tapping a familiar pattern on her phone case, Fitz knows he’s lost her. She doesn’t talk about her OCD much. She says she’s got a handle on it. They had a long conversation early on in their friendship about her weird behaviors and thoughts, one of those conversations that tell you you’ve made a best friend. She doesn’t seem too stressed about it until she is and even then Fitz doesn’t know how to help. He’ll always try.

“I’ve got a class,” he says. “But if you need me--”

“Go ahead,” Jemma says. She wouldn't have him miss class for anything.

He hugs her quickly, which fills that emptiness she feels just a tad, then heads out the front door. Jemma is alone in the lobby, two long hallways of quiet doors at either side of her; but not for long.

Elena Rodriguez is queer. If anyone asks, that's what she'll say. People usually don't have to ask. She enters the dorm building in a plaid shirt French-tucked into horrendously ripped jeans, her leather jacket permanently stained with cigarette smoke. Today, her faux-hawk is in a long braid down her back. She sees Jemma, smiles, and approaches her.

“Hi,” she says. “I'm new here.”

Jemma is startled out of her troubled thoughts. Elena had walked right up to her without her even noticing. “Oh, hello,” she says. “Do you need help finding something?”

“I was looking for a tour guide.” Elena offers her hand. “I'm Elena.”

The name is familiar. Daisy had mentioned her casually, in a brief and frustrated text days ago. Another Inhuman for the program, this one whose powers far surpass hers. And Jemma heard plenty of rumors about her as well. She'd been recruited out of jail. She used to be Hydra. She's already a trained killer. She doesn't even have her green card. No one told Jemma she was also hot. Why are the bad ones always hot?

“You're…” Jemma starts to say, her worry obvious on her face.

“Dangerous, just like every Inhuman?” Elena says, dropping her hand. “What have you heard?”

From Daisy? To steer clear of this one. But Jemma hasn't heard much else from her and Daisy debunked every rumor about herself. So why should she listen to Daisy, who left this hole in her, when someone new is looking at her with a smile that just might fill it?

“I heard...you need a tour guide,” the young scientist says, already mapping out the path they'll take through campus in her mind. “I'm Jemma.”

Elena smirks and says, in her cute accent, with more confidence than Jemma ever could as a native speaker: “The pleasure is mine.”

*

Lincoln Campbell is the lowest on the totem pole. There seem to be miles of red tape still ahead of him, dozens of S.H.I.E.L.D. bureaucrats ready to poke and prod at him and his past. He only has his foot in the door because of Daisy and even with her recommendation, he's yet to be welcomed into the Inhumans Program. Whatever. He doesn't want to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent anyway.

“Stop complaining,” says the man of the phone. “We got you. Alright? Be patient.”

Lincoln nods. He stays quiet because there’s too much literal electricity going through his fingers to resist the urge to tell his handler to just fuck off. He sees Daisy approach the building, utters, “Gotta go,” and frantically tosses the burner into his backpack. He meets her outside.

“Hey, you get a new phone?” Daisy says.

“No. I'm borrowing...my mom's. While mine gets a screen fix.”

“Right…”

Lincoln wonders if she's as suspicious as she sounds. He hugs her waist, lifts her to her toes, and kisses her with greed. Her fists curl into his jacket sleeves. She kisses back, slowly leaning away until the kiss breaks.

“So, we heading back to mine?” Lincoln says.

Daisy’s still catching her breath when she nods. “Let's get the fuck off this campus.”

Lincoln smirks at that. They may argue a lot but they can agree on one thing: S.H.I.E.L.D. sucks. S.H.I.E.L.D. and every agency like them, parading powered folks around like prized possessions for political gain. And it is all politics. That's what they whine about on the long drive through skeletal winter forestry. Daisy does most of the whining. Lincoln takes mental notes. This and that about a new girl. The different schools rarely lingering, even being abjectly hostile toward each other. She'd just made a friend who lived three floors above her that she never would've met if not for chance. Lincoln listens like a good boyfriend and a better spy; after all, she deserves nothing less.

He still remembers the first time they broke up months ago. He thinks about it every time he feels guilty for having two cell phones, every time he spaces out when she complains, every time he has doubts. The ends justify the means. He's willing to enact karma on his own if he has to.

Daisy thinks about that first break up every time she takes him back. She thinks about it when they grow quiet halfway through their trip. Her feet up on his dashboard, her forehead against the freezing window, a punk song shaking the air between them. She'll never admit to him she feels guilty about how it all went down. She won't even admit it to herself. So she does homework for the remainder of the drive.

Isolate vibrations. Find them and label them and try to hold their frequencies. She can do the first two just fine. The heavy bass, the engine, the trees and everything that is alive or dead in them. She feels them, or hears them, or something, even with her eyes closed. When she does close her eyes, she sees Jemma. The shy sputter of Jemma's belly when she laughs. The brush of her soft fingers on Daisy's arm. Those were frequencies Daisy often woke up thinking about since meeting Jemma after that third break up with Lincoln.

Jemma can't be more important than Lincoln. As much as Daisy was itching to drop everything and spend the day with Jemma, she had to be with her boyfriend...because he was her boyfriend. Right? Why didn't she feel this pull toward Jemma until she saw her cute little face distorted with disappointment earlier? Why does Lincoln's hand on her thigh right now feel more intrusive than ever?

“Actually, can we just hang out downtown?” Daisy asks. “I don't think I can stay over tonight. I have a lot of homework.”

Lincoln scoffs. “You mean the quantum fucking physics they’re forcing you to learn?” he says, giving her leg a light squeeze. “You'd rather do hard science than hang out with me?”

When they were broken up, Jemma helped Daisy with her physics homework. It should've been Fitz but Daisy suspects that Fitz doesn't like her much. She has no idea why. She does know one thing.

“Yeah,” she says. “I'd rather do science than hang out with you. Also, I'd like to pass my damn classes.”

But mostly the science part, with her favorite scientist. She doesn't say that; he takes an exit. Daisy just can't wait to get back to campus.

*

Elena doesn't live on campus either. She's new and just started in the middle of the semester so why would she? It's fine, though. She likes her beat up old Toyota. She likes the distance from the S.H.I.E.L.D. weirdness. She likes the long drives. What she likes more is holding pretty girls’ hands en route to parking lots. Sounds niche, to be sure; but it usually means she's taking one home with her.

“I still don't have an American driver's license,” Jemma admits. Their arms swing as the walk.

“ _Mija_ , go get it!” Elena says, giving Jemma's hand a squeeze. “ _¿Que te pasa?_ ”

Jemma loves hearing Elena speak Spanish. It's one of Jemma's language electives and practicing with a native speaker is a luxury she's yet to be afforded. It's almost meditative to send her understanding of English through an _Español_ function in her mind and have it come out the other side a new language. Well, new for her. This spy stuff is all new to her.

“ _Tengo…¿miedo?_ ” Jemma says. “I'm frightened by the prospect.”

“You're better at Spanish than you think, _bellísima_ ,” Elena says. Jemma blushes at the compliment. “Although your accent can use some work.”

“Look who's talking.”

Elena gasps loudly, earning a satisfied giggle from Jemma. Daisy recognizes the sound from where Lincoln drops her off. She sees the girls holding hands and tries not to think about it as she runs up to them.

“Jemma!” Daisy says.

“Hello,” Jemma says, her face made of stone.

Elena gives her hand another squeeze and steps aside to light a cigarette. She checks her phone to give them more space but she's got a wandering eye.

“So, my evening just freed up,” Daisy says. Her hopeful smile breaks Elena's heart.

“Great,” says Jemma. She folds her arms, raises her chin slightly.

“You wanna hang out?”

“Can't. Have plans.”

Daisy scoffs. “What, to study with Fitz?”

“Elena, actually,” Jemma says, giving her newest friend a smile.

Daisy looks between them. There's something about the way they're looking at each other, like they're sharing a secret, that she really doesn't like.

“You're gonna hang out with some stranger over me?” she says, disappointed stare falling on Jemma again.

“You picked Lincoln over me,” says Jemma matter-of-factly. She hoists her backpack up on her shoulder.

“That's different, he's my boyfriend,” Daisy says, a rumbling growing in her hands as she curls one into a fist.

Elena takes that as her queue to return. She doesn't know the history between these two but it's clear that Jemma wants to move on. And Elena is more than happy to help with that, especially if Miss Vibrator over here looks ready to crack skulls.

“No, it's not different,” Jemma says. Her voice cracks. Daisy's mouth hangs open.

“Jemma!” Elena says, draping an arm around her shoulders. “ _Estás_ ready?”

“ _Si_ , I am.”

Jemma walks ahead of her, needing OUT immediately. When she steps on a crack, she looks at the ground with huge eyes. She changes the length of each step to better avoid cracks but not before stepping on a crack on the opposite foot. To even it out. It feels wrong but maybe she will stop worrying about Daisy if she avoids the cracks. Maybe she'll stop worrying about making the wrong decision just now. Maybe she'll stop wishing she wasn't so angry and actually be not angry.

“She gets my humor,” Elena says to Daisy, smug smile to match her smug face. She gives Daisy a wink and goes to catch up with her date.


	3. Girl in the Band

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy finds out something startling about Lincoln. Jemma and Elena have a sleepover.

Daisy's been pretty bummed since the altercation with Jemma near the parking lot. This is terrible for Lincoln because he's so excited about his upcoming job offer. Realistically, the job offer wouldn't be to Daisy's liking either way. But he'll have to break the news soon and it'd be better if she wasn't a sad mess already.

Not that she told him what happened. He watched from behind a tree nearby after dropping her off. So they'll be even soon.

In the meantime, Daisy is spending most of her free time with Lincoln. Feels great! Making out with Daisy is one of his favorite pastimes. They're on his couch and they've just gotten horizontal. Daisy's hands on his face, Lincoln's lingering on her hips. She smells so good. Feels so warm on top of him, under his fingers.

He slides his hands under her blouse and massages the dented skin under her bra. Her breath catches. He pauses kissing her and gives her a little massage. She sighs between kisses starting at the corner of his mouth, trailing across his cheek bone.

When he unhooks the bra, Daisy quickly moves away. Lincoln sighs and let's his head fall back, as Daisy sits back on his thighs. He'd just barely felt the shift in the weight of her breasts on his chest. Now, she's reaching behind her back to destroy his dreams. He just can't watch.

Daisy speaks once her bra is fixed. “Lincoln--”

“I know, you wanna take it slow,” he says, almost in a singsong voice. “Coming up on our first anniversary.”

“Does that even count? I mean, we've definitely been together way less than a year. When you add it all up.”

He finally looks at Daisy and she's smiling like her observation is sooo funny. He props himself up on his elbows. Daisy makes a lot of lame jokes with Jemma. They hold hands and bump into each other “accidentally” and once, when it was cold and they were waiting at a bus stop, Jemma sat in Daisy's lap for more warmth and the way that they looked at each other? It all raised some concerns.

“Maybe you'd rather someone else be under you,” Lincoln says, because he's done with all this lying.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Daisy asks. She genuinely can't fathom what he might be referring too. She may be a lot of things but she never cheated.

“When we were broken up last month? I saw you with Jemma. All the time.”

Daisy starts moving off of his lap to sit at the edge of the couch. The way heat rises in her body makes her shiver. Or maybe something else is happening. She's a little disoriented. What could he mean? What does he think?

“You were flirty,” he says. “I'm not an idiot.”

“And I'm not--” Daisy can't even say it. What isn't she? What is she?

“Aren't you?” Lincoln pushes. “Gay? Because it took you five times as long to hold me like that.”

“You said you saw me. How?”

Daisy teeters away from one concern to another and she sees right away that it was the right choice. The anger on his face contorts into something softer and leaning toward guilt. There's also a bit of fear. And she realizes the couch is shaking, a wave she hadn't noticed come from her arm. She slams her hand down on it and the vibrations stop.

“Lincoln!”

“I was working with the CIA,” he says. “I'm... I--”

Too much to process. Daisy has a new mission. She shouts, “To spy on me?!” and quickly gathers her things around the room.

“You didn't give me a choice! It's the only way. And you know what, I'm not sorry. In fact--”

“Who's your handler?” Daisy says at the door, hand on the knob. The walls start shaking. They both know she's never been able to do anything like this. He looks around at the vibrating objects on the walls before his eyes land on Daisy's. She doesn't break eye contact as she says, with as much vitriol as he'd used earlier, “What's. The name. Of the agent?”

*

Elena used to be in a band, or so she says. Her wink after adding, “Before I chose a life of crime,” has Jemma doubtful of every word out of her mouth. Still, the point is that Elena has a song to show Jemma. An acoustic version of a song her all-girl queercore band in Colombia became known for.

“That's why you brought your guitar,” Jemma says, nodding at the case in the corner of her dorm room.

They're sat on the ground against her bed. Jemma invited Elena to spend the night, because she's got an early class and her roommate Barbara has eloped with her boyfriend. For the next couple weeks, Jemma's room is hers alone. She doesn't like being alone.

“Yes,” Elena says. A gust of wind rattles the papers on Jemma's desk. In the blink of an eye, Elena's got her guitar in her hands. “I am going to serenade you.”

“Your power is so cool,” Jemma says, full of awe.

Elena strums the nylon strings of her classical guitar. “ _Perfecto para ser criminal, ¿no?_ ”

“Oh, shut up and start the serenade.”

Elena grins. She positions herself and begins to play. The Spanish melody dances into Jemma's ears, melancholic but upbeat. Jemma finds herself swaying. She closes her eyes and waits for Elena to sing.

She can't make out what Elena's saying but she hears enough phrases and words to know it's a love song. The corners of her lips pull up into a thoughtful smile as the image of Daisy enters her mind. She wonders if Daisy misses her as much as she misses Daisy. She starts to get lost in Elena's croons, feeling the melodies move through her, wondering how Daisy would sing this song.

When Elena's finished, Jemma feels like she's just woken up from a lovely dream. She hums and offers Elena a smile. “Not my type of music but I liked it,” she says.

“Your type?” Elena asks. “And what is that?”

“Would you believe me if I said jazz?”

Elena does a quick, jazzy chord progression that delights Jemma immensely. “Nah.” She places her guitar on the floor and scoots closer to Jemma. “What do you want to do now, scientist girl?”

Jemma blushes, which is becoming a very common occurrence when they hang out. “Dunno,” she says, touching her cold fingers to her warm cheeks.

Elena's hands are at her sides. She raises one hand only slightly, letting her knuckles graze Jemma's thigh. “Did you not have something in mind,” she whispers, “when you invited me over?”

That they'd have a nice night hanging out. Really, truly only that. But between that serenade, the implication in that whisper, and now Elena's hand… Jemma doesn't know where Elena got the idea she might be queer. Maybe it’s the universe telling her to get over Daisy, even as the longing for her seems to drop from the middle of her ribs to somewhere dangerously lower. Maybe that was the whole reason she met Elena in the first place.

She looks at Elena, confused in her hopefulness, as Elena's hand moves up to her face. Like magnets, they move closer until they crash together. It's by no means a bad kiss, not that Jemma has much to compare it to; Elena smells like makeup, tastes like cigarettes, strokes the side of Jemma's neck. Jemma shivers, and pulls away, and regrets it immediately.

“Sorry, I- I've never--”

“It's okay,” Elena says, just as tenderly as she's done everything else the past few minutes. “We take it at your pace…” She strokes Jemma's hair. “May I kiss you again?”

After a beat, Jemma nods. “You may.”

“That's my girl.”

Their movements are slow and with many pauses. Elena asks and Jemma gives timid answers, growing braver each time. Things happen in an order and Jemma has control. It's almost mechanical, which makes it fit perfectly in Jemma's muddled brain. It's less scary for her that way. And eventually, it's very, _very_ good.

*

Alphonso Mackenzie used to drink coffee constantly. He would joke that he metabolised it so fast, it only gave him enough energy to make the next pot. At his previous office, where it felt like an actual office, he was in charge of that. Now, he drinks tea. Better for the nerves. Things are less predictable at the Dynamic Assets Office of the CIA. Especially when one of those dynamic people makes a show of hunting you down and barging in on your work.

It's the first time Daisy uses her powers to do it. She's got all this pent up energy in her arms and it bursts out of her hands as she pushes open the door. It slams against the wall stronger than she means to and one of the hinges comes completely off. Mack doesn't even look up from his computer. Lincoln had warned him. About her showing up, and about the improvements to her powers. Fascinating to experience in person.

“You made my boyfriend your spy?!” she shouts at Agent Mack. That burst of energy released, her arms start to feel sore. She hugs herself, which makes it harder for her to feel menacing.

Mack’s visibly stressed receptionist stands a few feet behind the fuming Inhuman. “I'm sorry, sir, I tried t--”

“Don't worry about it,” Mack says, waving her off. This one will probably quit too. “Order yourself a nice meal on me and head home early.” He smiles at Daisy, shutting his laptop. “I can handle this one.”

His receptionist leaves. Mack gestures toward a chair facing his desk. Daisy closes the door behind her and sits down. She entered the room feeling so big.

“Why do you care that I used Lincoln?” Macks asks. “You used to like trying to figure out who I sent after you.”

The last person in charge of the Johnson surveillance project quit. The history is complex and goes back decades. It's the U.S. government abusing their power at its peak and everyone involved has to suffer the consequences. The brunt of the consequences are felt by the youngest Johnson, the only one remaining in the States...as far as the government knows. There are spyful twists and turns and the only things that are certain are: the Inhuman Johnsons are an enemy of the state; and the young immigrant Daisy will have a relationship with the CIA whether she, or they, like it or not.

Her parents trained her well.

“This is different and you know it!” Daisy says, kicking his desk. “I only noticed him start acting weird a couple months ago. I already loved him before you made him your spy.”

Mack smirks. “We both know you don't love anyone but yourself,” he says slowly. “That's what made it so easy to recruit him. Also, what you did that ended the relationship the first time.”

Of course Mack knows about that first break up. That's probably when he recruited Lincoln to begin with. She feels like her shadow is heavier than it has to be.

“Or maybe you do love someone...but it was never Lincoln,” Mack says after a silence.

He opens his laptop and his eyes become fully engrossed on the contents of the screen. It's a dismissive gesture from him. Daisy sits there a moment, hoping for the will power or energy to make the room shake. She wants to tumble books and framed certificates to the ground. She wants Mack to feel as horrified as she feels.

She thinks of Lincoln's accusation and Mack’s and how it all goes back to Jemma. Why did Daisy never suspect her as a spy? After she gave a symposium on something directly related to her powers, then ran into her, then became her best friend and...she abandoned her for Lincoln. Now it feels like she has to question everything. This is exhausting.

“Stay out of my life,” Daisy says, weakly, like she does every time she leaves his office.

“Can't do that,” says Mack, tiredly, like he does every time she leaves his office.

*

Daisy needs Jemma. _Needs._ She made a mistake choosing Lincoln over her only real friend and it sucks that it took this bullshit with the CIA to recognize that. She can't make it to their dorm fast enough, storming across the concrete. She doesn't notice the way the trash bins shake when she passes. She wants a hug. She wants her friend.

It's a bit late but that's okay. Daisy tells herself this over and over, as she skips steps to get up the stairs faster. She tells herself that Jemma doesn't hate her as she runs down the hall and stops in front of her room. She knocks loudly, five times, and stands there catching her breath; so looking forward to seeing Jemma and begging for forgiveness.

When the door opens, Elena stands on the other side with that smug look again. Eyebrow cocked, she's dressed in nothing but a cardigan. One of Jemma's cardigans, Daisy recognizes; maroon and with big, pleather buttons. It cuts low between Elena's breasts, down to below her ribs, and ends high on her thighs. It was as if she threw on the first thing she could find so she could answer the door. But why was she…? There's no way that she...

“Jemma is sleeping,” Elena says. “Can I help you?”

Daisy can only stare. Elena looks so comfortable and pleased with herself, her body, exuding sexy while hardly trying. And Jemma… Daisy can barely make her out over Elena's shoulder but she can see her, illuminated by hall light, blanket tucked under her arm. Jemma's back faces them as she sleeps soundly on her small dorm bed. Her shoulders are bare.

After some silence in which Daisy tries to sort out her feelings, Elena chuckles and shuts the door. This'll be the first time since middle school that Daisy cries in an empty staircase.

*

A million awesome things happen after the sex (which is, like...whoa) and they continue to happen with Elena. Jemma wakes up to a beautiful, nearly naked woman while also being nearly naked. Jemma says she's a lesbian for the first time, to someone other than herself. She feels powerful, like she can take on the world.

Or, at the least, Daisy.

“She's in the north study room,” Elena says. They're both mid-dressing when she answers Jemma's rhetorical wonderment about Daisy's whereabouts.

“Did you just--”

“I'm a superhero, baby,” Elena says. “You ask, I find out.”

They kiss their goodbyes (on the lips!) and agree to meet later. Jemma wears her favorite cardigan to give herself moral support. She misses Daisy and maybe Daisy misses her. This has to go well. She hates these stucco linoleum tiles in their dorms. Her feet are so uneven.

She finds Daisy in the northern study room as promised. No one else is there, which makes sense so early on a Saturday. Jemma looks at Daisy through the window for a moment then enters and leans against the door.

Daisy sees Jemma, visibly tenses up, and looks back down at her notes. The notes that have Jemma's writing in different color pens. Jemma approaches the desk slowly. Several other desks are bare and the monitors in the perimeter of the room are off. It's definitely too quiet.

“Elena said you dropped by last night,” Jemma says, holding back hope with a mental stick. When Daisy doesn't say anything, Jemma sighs. “Do you want me to go?”

“No,” Daisy says, so quickly. She bites her lip and gestures at the chair in front of her. Jemma takes a seat.

Daisy feels like she's in the same place she was when they first met. Maybe even a worse place. She can't stop thinking of Lincoln and kind of wants him back even though she's so angry with him. Her powers are confusing and annoying. To top it off, she's jealous. She sees Jemma in that cardigan and the image of Elena from last night, the tightness in her chest, comes back. There's some truth to what Lincoln said. Maybe. It's too much to fit in her head right now.

“You promised me nothing would change when you started dating Lincoln again,” Jemma says. She starts rearranging the pens next to Daisy's book.

“I shouldn't have promised that,” says Daisy, watching Jemma's hands move.

“I suppose not.”

“Anyway, we broke up again.”

“That's too bad.”

“Jemma, I… I can make it so nothing comes between us again.”

It sounds dramatic even in Daisy's head. She leans over the desk and puts her hand over Jemma's. She's so desperate for them to be okay. Just touching her now brings some sort of relief.

“I can't just make you feel better in between breakups,” Jemma says, turning her hand over. Words stolen from Elena's mouth. Except Elena isn't as as soft as Jemma is.

“I know,” Daisy says. She traces a line on Jemma's palm. “Can't we just be friends? Please?”

Jemma felt a lot of things with Elena last night. Things she never felt before. Things she never thought she would feel. It all pales next to the shiver up her spine as Daisy touches her hand. Daisy's feeling something similar, but she'll never say. She doesn't even know.

Jemma whispers, with a small smile, “I missed you.”

Daisy sighs, the tension evaporating from her. “I missed you too, girl.”

She practically launches herself at Jemma, laying across the desk to hug her shoulders. Jemma laughs and hugs back. They stay like this until Daisy starts to physically feel uncomfortable and moves back.

“I have to meet Fitz at the lab...” Jemma says. “I'll see you later?”

Daisy nods vigorously. “You can count on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter, there will be updates to the tags as chapter 4 is the first written after this work was created. Next update in two weeks unless I get a lot of writing done. If you like my writing and want to (and are able to) help me out, please check out my Ko-Fi: [LM Writes](https://ko-fi.com/G2G8HXIA).
> 
> As always, comments of the complimentary and constructive variety both are greatly appreciated! <3


	4. Field Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy's training Jemma for her field test. Jemma and Elena are a bit of an item but Jemma spends more time with Daisy. Elena is suspicious of the time they spend together.

It kind of blows Jemma's mind that she has a “sex life.” A couple weeks ago she kissed a girl for the first time and now they consistently find themselves in each other's arms, in her bed, down to their underwear, cuddling silently if they don't have class and flirting dangerously if they do. Jemma feels refreshed. And also a little guilty. Is it awful that she wishes this was Daisy and not Elena?

She likes Elena a lot. She really does. But holding her from behind, feeling her warmth, seeing the contrast of their skin tones as their arms wrap around each other… Jemma finds herself wondering what it would be like with Daisy. How they could get to this point; how Daisy is in bed. She kisses Elena's shoulder and hears her hum. How would Daisy sound?

“Hey, I...have to go,” Jemma whispers.

“¿Qué?” Elena sleepily replies.

“Daisy's helping me train for my field test.” She gives Elena another kiss. “I'm meeting her at the track.”

Elena is super awake now. She isn't the jealous type so it irks her that hearing about Jemma's plans...irks her. It doesn't help that Daisy shows up at Jemma's room at all hours, or that she calls her all the time. Surely it's nothing. Daisy seems either straight or in denial. Besides, it's not like Jemma's her girlfriend.

“Okay,” Elena says. She pats Jemma's arm. “Have fun.” But not too much.

It's a lot warmer now. Jemma wears a t-shirt with her leggings, hoodie sleeves tied around her hips. She starts her stretches, keeping an eye out for Daisy. She hears and feels her before she sees her.

“You ready to BULK UP?!” Daisy says. She bends to wrap her arms around Jemma's waist from behind and lifts her up, then spins her.

“Ready to throw up, maybe!” says Jemma.

Daisy lets her down and poses, showing off her biceps. Jemma rolls her eyes, shakes her head, smiles and admires her physique; Daisy only has on a sports bra below her open hoodie and the shape of her biceps can be seen even over that. While Jemma is relatively healthy, getting her cardio on the regular, she has exactly zero fighting skill or muscle mass. Daisy's deep in training at Ops. If Jemma is to be a field scientist, she needs some of those skills.

They'd spent the previous night meticulously going over a workout routine and schedule. Daisy knows Jemma is a bit particular about things so she wanted to make sure this plan worked for her. In the slew of emails, Jemma disclosed her OCD diagnosis as an explanation. Daisy immediately called and their conversation went exactly like this:

“Have I ever done anything to...aggravate your...um…anxieties, I guess?”

“Besides ditching me for Lincoln? Not any more than any friend would do.”

“Well, let me know if I can help ever.”

“You're helping me now.”

“Good. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

When they hung up, Jemma held her phone to her chest like the smitten girl she is.

“Alright, let's get those stretches in,” Daisy says now.

They place their hoodies and water bottles on a bleacher nearby and do their planned stretches. Close enough to see but far enough to not be seen, Lincoln smokes a cigarette and watches them with a certain amount of disdain. He knows it's weird that he semi-stalked Daisy's social media and lingered near campus to catch a moment of her in public. But he used to do it for the CIA so who cares?

He's not on that assignment anymore. All because Daisy had to go and fall for some nerd and he had to go and get jealous about it. He hates the way Daisy puts her hands on Jemma, helping her stretch. And he's not the only one.

“What's Daisy's deal?” Elena asks, appearing behind Lincoln.

“She's a bitch and a half,” Lincoln says, inhaling sharply from his cigarette.

“Sounds about right. I'm Elena, by the way.”

Lincoln takes a beat to reply, trusting no one from S.H.I.E.L.D. “I'm Lincoln.”

Why do these spies smoke so much? Elena lights her own cigarette. “So why were you dating the bitch and a half?” she says, smirking. “How much did that leave for you?”

Lincoln frowns, slowly turns and stops to blow smoke in her face, and walks away. Elena is delighted.

Jogging the quarter-mile track over and over is the perfect opportunity to flirt, Jemma thinks. She would totally flirt if she knew how. She and Daisy are mostly watching the campus circle them, staying beside each other at an even pace. Some of it is breathless comments. She wonders if Daisy is flirting or if all the talk about Jemma's body really is about training, or if she's just being a complimentary friend. How could she tell?

They take a break after the first mile and find someone camped out next to their things. Fitz has created a nest of textbooks on the bleachers, some open; he has a small drone in his lap he's tampering with. The girls grab their waters and catch their breaths while drinking. Jemma speaks first.

“Hi Fitz!”

“Hello, ladies,” Fitz says, smiling shyly. “I needed a break from the lab and I remembered you said you'd be at the track today.”

“Good to see you somewhere green!” Daisy says, being probably way more enthusiastic than normal. She doesn't understand his beef with her but she knows what's best for Jemma is they get along. “Wanna join us for a few laps?”

If he knew what she was thinking, Fitz would agree with Daisy. “Seriously?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks but I'm not dressed appropriately.” He looks down at his semi-formal wear. “Just gonna study in the sun.”

Daisy nods. She pats his arm. “Next time then.”

Jemma tries really, really hard not to look super excited until Daisy jogs back to the track. Facing away from her, Jemma gives Fitz a huge smile. “You were nice to Daisy!” she says.

“She's gonna be a fixture in your life, correct?” Fitz says. He's reached the final stage of grief.

“You're the best.”

“I know.”

The girls run a few more miles then inform Fitz they're headed into the gym for weight training. Elena's long gone by now; she has some things to think about for sure. And Lincoln? He watches Daisy and Jemma leave the track holding hands, except for when they pause to fill their bottles at an outdoor water fountain. He has hatched a plan.

*

Fitz isn't taking the field test. At least not yet, if ever. The tests are run by Operations and Fitz doesn't need to prove anything to them. He's fast-tracked for a great career as a S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist at any facility he wants and that doesn't include constantly getting shot at. No, he hasn't told Jemma; this decision is new. And maybe bad. He has to think about it. He has to think a lot about it.

Lincoln is really good at getting people talking. He approached the suspicious scientist, introduced himself as an old friend of Daisy's, and turned on the charm. He zeroed in on Fitz's mannerisms and responded as socially as was needed. Fitz didn't love the idea of such a rigorous training routine, especially not with Daisy; no offense. As always, Lincoln multi-tasked: listening intently, taking notes.

“Yeah, why do all that when you have a PhD?” Lincoln says. “You already did so much work!”

“Exactly,” says Fitz, sounding like a man vindicated. “Simmons is ridiculous.”

“Hey, it's been good talking to you but I gotta run. Can I ask you a favor?”

It's clear Fitz is a little naive, and he has a sore spot for Daisy. Lincoln is happy to realize that Fitz is a bit of a romantic as well. When Lincoln fakes soft about missing Daisy, Fitz is hooked. Lincoln was too nervous to talk to Daisy today but he really wants to fix things...or whatever. Good thing Fitz isn't taking the field test because he'd make a bad spy.

“You're the infamous Lincoln,” Fitz said, halfway through the man's half-assed plea.

Lincoln kept cool. “What did Daisy say about me?”

“Blah blah exes suck, blah. I'll let you know.”

Next practice, Lincoln gets to the track a short while before the girls' departure, per Fitz's intel. Luckily Fitz is lab-stuck and doesn't want to be at the track anyway. Unluckily, Lincoln is not the only one with an interest in Daisy and/or Jemma. That bitch Elena lies across a bench, wearing sunglasses, and though he can't see her eyes he can feel her watch him take a seat. She's nowhere near the water fountain.

But soon, Jemma is. Now, this isn't some kind of master plan. It's super petty and would've evaporated if Lincoln's anger had. He has revenge in his heart and it fuels him as he moves quickly to meet Jemma at the fountain. Elena watches, not yet concerned. Daisy's mortified when, halfway around the track, she notices him approach Jemma. She starts right across the grass to them. Elena slowly makes her way down the bleachers.

“Hi,” says Lincoln. It takes all his willpower not to zap her right away. “Jemma, right?”

“Hello,” Jemma replies. “Do we have a class together?”

He grits his teeth a moment and watches Jemma's water bottle fill up. Of course Daisy hasn't even shown her a photo of him. He places a hand on the water fountain edge. “I'm Lincoln.”

“Daisy's Lincoln?”

“Apparently not.” When Jemma leans down for a sip, he sends a spark from the tip of his finger the moment her lips touch the water. “That's for stealing my girlfriend.”

He fights a satisfied smile as she cries out, drops her bottle, covers her mouth with her hand. Lincoln doesn't have much time to enjoy it before an odd gust of wind precedes him hitting the ground. He doesn't even know how he got there, until he sees Elena making a beeline for him.

“Hey!” she shouts.

“What the hell was that?” Daisy snaps, face red. She leads Jemma away. “Are you okay?”

“ _¡Oye, maldito!_ ” Elena gives Lincoln another shove, distracting him from the look on Jemma's face. Good thing Jemma had invited her to the track or maybe no one would be around to kick this guy's ass. “You got an explanation?”

“It pissed off Daisy and was pretty harmless, Speedy Gonzales,” he says, brushing himself off. “It was a static shock.”

“Do it again and you'll have a worse shock.”

“Is that a--”

Despite her lack of height, she seems so much taller than Lincoln as she looks him in the eye with the deepest vitriol imaginable. “It is a threat, gringo.”

“Damn, girl!” says Mack, appearing out of fucking nowhere. Why are there so many people here?

Mack grins at Elena, who frowns and takes a step back as the tall, dark, and handsome stranger approaches Lincoln. Maybe it's the suit, maybe it's the smug look on his face like this situation is his now, maybe it's something else. But Lincoln looks even more intimidated by this guy. Elena's frown quickly turns into a smile.

“Is anything like that gonna happen again, son?” Mack asks, voice dripping with patronization, hands folded.

Lincoln rolls his eyes. “No, sir,” he says. He immediately turns on his heel and begins to leave.

“Good. Next time I arrest you.”

Elena can appreciate that. “Sexy,” she says to Mack, who winks before approaching the girls at the bleachers.

Meanwhile, that physical shock has Jemma in a mental shock. She's fine. It hurt and definitely sent her mind somewhere far from her body for a moment but there's no mark on her. She even kind of likes how Daisy is doting on her, hand on her head and chin, inspecting her lips. Sitting down with her, Jemma already feels better.

“That wasn't right,” Daisy says. “Lincoln--”

“He hates me,” Jemma says with a nod. She wonders if Daisy had heard what he'd said. Jemma doesn't even know what to think of it.

Daisy sighs and takes Jemma's hands in hers. “He hates me more. By, like, a lot.”

“Why's that?”

“The CIA and S.H.I.E.L.D. aren't exactly besties…” Daisy already feels like she's said too much, given Jemma's expression of surprise and Mack appearing in her periphery. These damn CIA stalkers... “If you really wanna know, I'll explain only after you pass your field test,” Daisy adds, rubbing Jemma's back.

“Challenge accepted,” Jemma says, sitting up a bit straighter.

“That's my girl.” Daisy kisses her cheek. “You've been working hard. Wanna end early today?”

“Please.”

“Ms. Johnson. Can I speak with you for a sec?”

It's the last thing Daisy wants and it's obvious to everyone. She doesn't look up at Agent Mack, who sticks out like a sore thumb with his tux. Jemma squeezes Daisy's hand and gives her a look full of question marks. Daisy doesn't want to leave her alone; she squeezes back, looking at her friend in defeat. Agent Mack isn't going away anytime soon.

As if on cue, Elena pops out from behind Mack. She grins and takes a seat on Jemma's other side. “Go ahead,” she says to Daisy.

Elena has taken the mantel as Jemma comfort. She holds her hand and makes sure their thighs touch. When Daisy's turned away to walk with Mack, she kisses Jemma's neck. Jemma loves the attention but she's worrying about Daisy's unwanted attention: she can't make out what this stranger is telling Daisy about but she looks tense, confused, relieved?

“What's that all about?” Jemma asks. She taps on Elena's hand. She adjusts herself so that her legs are perpendicular to the bench...but then she isn't facing the gym at a great angle. It all makes her feel tense.

“Don't know,” Elena says, and kisses Jemma's temple. “Daisy has some strange men in her life.”

Jemma takes a deep breath. “Walk with me?” She can't sit still anymore. Elena brings her to her feet. They pace between some nearby trees, Jemma scrutinizing her own steps repeatedly, until Daisy's free of whatever that conversation is about. Jemma hates this not knowing.

*

Fitz was mortified. It takes some time to convince him that it's okay, that Jemma wasn't badly hurt and he wasn't at fault. Lincoln is the asshole that took advantage of his trusting nature just to hurt Jemma. This is a spy organization, though, and Fitz should be more careful. But Jemma didn't care. She had a field test to pass.

“You have earned one explanation for why my ex hates me!”

Jemma and Daisy eat ice cream and walk around campus, celebrating the flying colors Jemma got on her field tests. Not a perfect score, which is going to haunt Jemma for some time, but a much higher score than most Sci-Tech recruits get on average. Most of them don't have someone from Operations to coach them one-on-one.

“I sure have,” says Jemma, happily licking her ice cream.

Daisy has stressed about this moment since she made that promise to Jemma. She has carefully formulated a story that is honest, romantic, and not totally self-incriminating. It starts with her father Cal on assignment for the CIA in China. He fell in love, as spies do. Jemma smiles at this. Cal soon defected to China to be with the woman, Jiaying, Daisy's mother. This is a move that the U.S., in the middle of the Cold War at the time, didn't like. Especially when it was found out Jiaying was the leader of a secret, centuries-old society of Inhumans.

They meant no harm. They wanted to live in peace, free of persecution. But history was often made up of misunderstandings fueled by fear and this one casted suspicion over the Johnsons when Cal brought Daisy to the States. He barely escaped jail and fled, leaving Daisy to stay to live with American family members. After this, anyone from Jiaying's society or closely related to it was barred from serving for many U.S. governmental agencies. Lincoln's familial legacy with the CIA was overshadowed by his relationship to the cunning Inhuman heir Daisy Johnson.

“That's horrible,” Jemma says. They've found a bench to sunbathe on. “Did he knew that going in?”

This is the part that makes Daisy question her place on the alignment chart. “I wasn't allowed to tell him,” she says softly. “I wasn't supposed to know myself.” She takes her precious time nibbling on her ice cream cone.

“How long were you dating before he knew?”

“It's complicated. I don't wanna talk about it.”

Jemma believes in justice, obsessively. Her morality is a strict set of rules that create an unconscious reaction to moments, a compulsory set of emotions; often to a fault. She doesn't always know how she gets there, she doesn't always know how to get back, but she knows when something isn't fair. And she has to fix it.

“You said he hates you,” Jemma says, speaking slowly.

“Why do you care?” says Daisy. She wants to just move on. She's lived through this conversation enough times.

“Because it isn't right.” Jemma's ice cream melts down her hand, chocolate and sticky and cold and ignored. She speaks slow, trying to guide her friend to the logically, morally correct place. “He should have had the choice between a relationship and a career.”

“I'm worth more than a job.”

“That's for him to decide!”

Daisy repeats, “Why do you care?” and takes a big, harsh bite of her cone.

“What if you did that to me?” Jemma asks.

“In what context could I do anything like that to you?”

Perhaps in the context of them dating? Jemma drops a napkin on the ground and places her ice cream cone on it. She gets another napkin and starts cleaning her fingers. She's meticulous about it but melted sweet isn't going away so easily. She twists her ankle, counting in fours, and blinks hard to hold back the response to her realization that she's so fucked up. She's as upset that Daisy seems so unapologetic as she is by the rhetorical opportunity for Daisy to hurt her in the same way. She feels betrayed by a lover already and they're nowhere near that.

Daisy watches it all happen, unsure what it means or what to do. She's just so tired of defending herself about this. She didn't expect this reaction. Is this Jemma's OCD?

“Let's just go to our dorm,” Jemma says, already getting up. “I need to wash my hands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags added since previous chapter: mild violence, angst, and a couple of ships.


	5. Et tu, Brute?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and Daisy have a moment. Jemma is annoyed with Daisy and avoids her. Elena makes a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To celebrate the new season starting soon, and to make up for missing a few updates, I'll be posting THREE chapters in the next week! This was posted Thursday, May 2nd.

This is it. This is the moment. Finally. Fitz knows from the gentle smile on Jemma's face and the look of love in her eyes. He's waited for some time against this fence on the outskirts of campus, separating the Academy from a nearby S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, for her to meet him. She looks beautiful as ever. And when she meets him, they instinctively hold each other.

“You were right about us,” she says. “I'm sorry I overlooked you. I see it now. We're meant for each other.”

She kisses him and it's passionate and loving and everything Fitz wants and needs. He feels incredibly guilty imagining it. So...lame.

Real life Jemma appears halfway through his fantasy, a forced smile on her face. Indeed, she doesn't hesitate to make the space between them zero; but instead of a kiss she gives him a tight hug. He hugs back, and hugs tighter when she lingers. Her head rests on his shoulder, digging into his neck.

“Good to see you, stranger,” Fitz says, meaning it entirely as a joke.

Jemma chuckles as she moves away. “I'm sorry. I know I spent a lot of time with Daisy. But that's changed so...we can be nerd friends again!”

She leads the way toward the entrance to the nextdoor compound, practically skipping as she moves alongside the fence. Until she has to pause and look down, and her movements become more calculated. She avoids cracks in the cement, other imperfections; she takes extra unnecessary steps, looking frustrated as she tries to get it right. Whatever “it” is.

“You're not spending time with Daisy?” Fitz finally asks because, yeah, he wants to know.

“I am.” Jemma pulls up her sleeves. She looks over at the buildings next door, where actual agents are doing way more important things. “I help with her homework,” she adds.

“That's all.”

“Well, there's Elena. Spend a lot of time with her.”

Fitz falls back against the fence and crosses his arms. She's not getting out of this conversation that easily. “What happened with Daisy?” he asks.

The tapping starts without Jemma even noticing, fingertips gently designing patterns on her thigh. She closes her eyes, takes a breath. “I don't know,” she starts, calmly, but the excessive energy produced by her overactive neurons bursts out. “I don't know! My brain doesn't work correctly. I'm the top of the class and my mind isn't right. I can't stop thinking about what she did to Lincoln.”

“Ah…”

“But I don't want to talk about it. We have samples to collect, yeah?”

Jemma never wants to talk about it. The more Fitz sees the stress she’s under with this weird love triangle, the more he thinks she might not have the best handle on her disorder. But who is he to judge? He can’t even begin to imagine what’s happening in her head, what drives her to tap those imaginary pyramids onto her skin.

One two three.  
One two.  
One.

One two three.  
One two.  
One.

He sees the way her hands shake when she “messes up” the “positioning,” whatever that means; the tension up her arm; the added speed to her next attempt. It’s like she’s having a panic attack through her fingers.

“I see you finger tapping,” Fitz says with a nod.

Jemma closes her hand into a fist. “We’ve got work to do,” she says, a little more aggressively.

Fitz nods. “I know we do, Jemma.” He starts toward the main entrance again. Maybe she'll talk while they work. Maybe it's best he stay out of it.

*

Jemma's been distant. Fitz and Daisy have that in common. Still, it’s a surprise to see Fitz at the door of her suite. They never hang out one-on-one. They have no reason to. They have nothing else in common.

“We’ve got beer in common,” Fitz says, indignant in his tone and exaggerated expression. He raises the six pack. “Let’s… How would you understand it? _Shoot the shit_?”

Daisy laughs at the excellent American accent and invites Fitz in. The suite is too small for much more than two counters next to a mini-fridge. They open their beers, lean against a counter of the kitchenette, clink. Shoot the shit. When was the last time they saw Jemma? This morning. Yesterday. How was class? Explosive. Boring. What's with this fluctuating weather?

It's nice to talk to a guy that doesn't have an ulterior motive. Daisy is enjoying a man's company for once. It becomes easy to smile and laugh with Fitz, as they move past awkward chit chat and he shows himself to be actually really funny and sweet. Still, Daisy’s mind wanders in the silences. How much does Fitz know about what happened with Lincoln? What does he think? Are she and Fitz officially friends now? It was simpler being a loner, even if that meant being alone with Lincoln.

There’s one thing that Daisy has off her back and that’s one Agent Mackenzie. That weird afternoon at the track, Mack said to her, “I dropped your case. I recommended the agency do the same.”

Daisy didn't know what to do with her arms, so she shook them to release some of that energy. “Why? And why are you telling me?” she’d asked him.

They'd missed the flirty kisses Elena gave Jemma. Sometimes it's good not to know things, or to think someone doesn't know things. Sometimes.

“A lot of reasons,” Mack had said. “Mostly, they're targeting Inhumans through the one girl that doesn't need that shit right now and never did. I’m done with that dirty work.”

Fitz opens his third beer. Daisy chugs the rest of her second and opens the last one. He chuckles; he's got a cute smile. He nudges Daisy's arm and they clink their bottles together. She's teetering between relaxed and concerned. Jemma hasn't hugged her in days. Lincoln hasn't spoken to her in longer.

Fitz is kinda cute, Daisy reasons. Definitely the cutest of the Sci-tech scientist guys she’s seen around. He wears too many layers but it makes him look approachable now, leaning cooly against the counter of her kitchenette. His eyes are so blue. He smiles at her again and she gets an idea. Or her body does.

“You going to Trip's party?” Daisy asks.

“I planned to ask Jemma,” he says. Then, thinking of the two beautiful women that are his competition, adds, “If she doesn't already have a date.”

Daisy puts her beer down. She takes a couple steps closer and her fingers slide up the length of his arm as she does. Long, lingering touches, just the right amount of pressure to get a sharp intake of breath from Fitz. Another step forward so she could whisper in his ear, “You would have way more fun with me,” and her fingers finally find his shoulder, curl around it possessively.

She leans away a little, giving Fitz space to breathe, only touching her body to his left side. But boy, are all his sides reacting.

“Isn't she your best friend?” Fitz says slowly, afraid words would betray him. He doesn't mind the sudden physical intimacy but it's so unexpected. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, flat on the counter. He doesn't know what to do with his hips, a centimeter from Daisy's.

“Doesn't stop me from being a better date,” Daisy says. She touches his earlobe. He just stares at her. “Are you attracted to me?”

Fitz nods enthusiastically, which would've been super embarrassing if Daisy's corresponding smile didn't look so...surprised? Grateful? Whatever the case, she takes it as a go ahead to press against him. Instinctually, Fitz has his arms around her as soon as they're kissing.

Maybe Daisy could tell that he needed this. Maybe she did. But it feels pretty good to be in Fitz's arms, secure under his layers, close to someone else. At first. Their lips press together awkwardly then move slowly, hesitant. They're already moving away from each other by the time Daisy realizes she doesn't like this at all.

After an awkward beat avoiding eye contact, Fitz says, “I can't. I can't and I can't tell you why. I'm sorry.”

He picks up his beer. Daisy picks up hers. They drink in silence, in unison. She sighs and touches her arm to his, relieved when he presses back.

“Is it about Jemma?” she asks.

“Of course it is,” Fitz says. “Her thoughts, they spiral into hyperfixation. It's not just schedules, it's people. And maybe things they've done in their past…”

That last thing Fitz says is hidden behind a final chug of beer but Daisy hears it clearly. She frowns at him, stands in front of him, and the corner of her lips barely twitch up when he rolls his eyes.

“It's none of your business,” Daisy says.

Fitz shrugs. “Jemma is. And you both only talk about each other.”

“She's blowing me off with Elena like she claimed I blew her off with Lincoln.” Daisy breezes right past what Fitz had said, right past the brow he arches at her, past the full feeling in her chest that wonders what it all means. “I should be the one that's upset with her.”

“Yeah...and it _is _the _same_ ,” Fitz says slowly. He's willing telepathy to do him a favor and get these two girls to see how much they like each other. “Except that she actually cares about you, way more than about Elena. In _every_ way.”__

__“I am getting so tired of people insinuating that we...that I'm…” The buzz has about peaked when Daisy starts to wrap herself around that thought. She speaks slowly, watching Fitz for a reaction. “I care about her,” she says, her cheeks growing impossibly warm. “In...in every way.”_ _

__He only smiles. “Then prove it.”_ _

__“What do you want me to say to you?”_ _

__Fitz shakes his head. “Not to me.”_ _

__He gathers the empty beers into the carton. Daisy sits with her panic for that moment._ _

__“What if I can't?” she says, and immediately follows it up with, “Don't answer.”_ _

__*_ _

__It's a long walk across the student parking lot and not the only exit from campus but the only one Elena knows. Her shitty old car finally gave up on life so she'll expect a ride home from a friend. Jemma walks with her to the gate, because she's sweet and polite, but Elena absolutely hates the experience._ _

__“Can you believe she’d do that and just...expect me not to react?” Jemma says._ _

__“Yes,” says Elena. “You told me this already.”_ _

__“Oh. I’m sorry.” Jemma folds her arms and they walk along in silence for a brief moment which Elena cherishes. “It’s just unbelievable, that we can spend time together and have this thing looming in the air between us and she just- and after she left me for him? Or, I mean, not left me, but--”_ _

__They're just a few meters from the gate when Elena steps in Jemma's path, making Jemma stumble back with an imperceptible shrug. “Let me stop you there,” Elena says. She throws her arms up, exasperation in every movement. “ _¡Estoy harta, nena!_ I like you a lot _pero_...I see how you feel about Daisy. I won't be your second choice.” She worries her lip, sees the way Jemma's expression falls into sadness, and rubs her arm. “Call me when you're over her.”_ _

__One two three, one two, one. Elena turns away, her long pony swinging like a dress and her hands slipping into her jacket pockets. One two three one two one. Jemma's feet take a few steps forward. Her chest has been hollowed out and is filling with a heavy sense of loss and longing. Is this what a breakup feels like? This is awful._ _

__“Oh! Dr. Simmons,” a booming voice at the gate says. Jemma blinks at the man, who she recognizes as Agent Mackenzie. Elena makes her way through the security post._ _

__“Yes?” Jemma says, not trusting Mack for a second._ _

__“Lincoln wanted me to tell you that he's sorry about before.”_ _

__Jemma sees Elena stand beside Mack and it occurs to her that this is for the best. Elena is right. This has always been true. Jemma's hung up on Daisy, the cutest straight girl to ever torture Jemma's fragile gay heart. There's something messed up about that, and about the fact that Jemma fawned over Elena while looking the other direction. It still hurts to watch someone walk away from you like that but maybe it should hurt a little less._ _

__“Tell Lincoln that he will be sorry,” Jemma says to Mack. Elena is delighted, and the girls smile at each other briefly (sadly) before turning away._ _

__“Damn,” Mack says. He turns to Elena. “These _gringos_ straight _loco_.”_ _

__*_ _

__There's one thing Daisy never does and that's going out of her way to do something driven by uncomfortable emotion. Normally, she'd have waited around to stumble upon Jemma in their dorm. Something possesses her to go to the Sci-tech lab where Jemma does most of her work (thanks to Fitz’s intel) and ask around for her. She finds her in a study room next to a lab, where several other biologists have desks littered with pages and pages of information. Daisy grabs a nearby seat and places it across from Jemma, who seems a bit startled at the sight of her._ _

__“Hello,” Jemma says._ _

__“I kissed Fitz.”_ _

__Jemma raises her eyebrows but otherwise doesn’t betray any emotion. She already knows this; Fitz tells her everything. She had her freak out about it and he apologized a million times and a million more. And, okay, hearing Daisy say it aloud as well did tie up some knots in Jemma’s chest. But the fact that it was not all that satisfying of a kiss, for either of them according to Fitz, is a relief. Hearing Daisy say it?_ _

__“And it suuucked,” Daisy says, crumpling a little as she lets her chin drop into the pile of papers._ _

__An even bigger relief. Jemma laughs in surprise. She's still super jealous but at least she doesn't have anything to worry about there._ _

__“Because I suck at this,” Daisy says. She lowers her voice when a nearby student glares at her, getting up and leaning closer. “Any... relationship or friendship.” She’s so uncomfortable. She starts talking super fast. “I needed a friend and I only had Fitz and for some reason I thought kissing him would make me feel better and it didn't it just made it awkward and I'd rather go to the party with you.”_ _

__Daisy takes a deep breath. Jemma hasn’t stopped smiling. This is the most Daisy has ever soberly talked about her feelings._ _

__“Thanks for the honesty,” Jemma says._ _

__“You're not mad at me?”_ _

__“I was…” She sets aside some of the data she’s working on, careful to make sure the corners of the papers are perfectly aligned. “It's the lying that miffed me. And Fitz didn't like the kiss either.”_ _

__“He told you that?” Daisy can’t help snorting, which turns into a giggle. “Poor Fitz. Maybe he'll find someone at Trip's party.”_ _

__“If he even goes! Our Fitzy isn’t one for large get-togethers.”_ _

__“Why doesn’t that shock me?”_ _

__They laugh together a moment. When a nearby classmate shushes them violently, Jemma looks at Daisy with eyes like saucers. Daisy takes Jemma’s hand._ _

__“I'm not the person who lied to Lincoln anymore,” she whispers, for only Jemma to hear. “That person sucked. That’s not me. That’s not the girl you met behind our dorm.”_ _

__“And I...overreacted,” Jemma says. It looks painful because it’s hard for her to admit when she’s wrong. But if Daisy put the effort in, so should she. “I guess we're both bad at the friend thing.”_ _

__“Is this a hug moment? Let it be a hug moment.”_ _

__Jemma rolls her eyes, grinning. “Get over here.”_ _

__To Jemma’s delight and fright, Daisy hops over the table, using her arms to support her weight as she swings her legs over. She squeals when Daisy plops herself into her lap and hugs her shoulders tightly, check against her neck. Jemma hugs back, suddenly relieved that Elena broke up with her._ _


	6. Party Queen, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elena invites Mack to the party as her date. Fitz tells Mack something he doesn't like. Daisy and Jemma get drunk while they get ready for the party together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted Sunday, May 5th

Attending a secret academy for a secret organization means living with a set of rules most young adults don't have. For Fitz it means a 15 minute walk from the bus stop to the entrance, which is another long walk from the dorms. He doesn't mind it. He gets it. This campus and his life are shrouded in mystery and it's really the only exercise he gets. Still, he sometimes wishes he had super speed or a ride or a benevolent force that allows him to stumble upon a friend of a friend of a friend.

“Fitz?”

A black SUV slows to a turtle's crawl beside Fitz. The passenger's side window is open and a very attractive and buff man smiles at the young agent from inside.

“CIA man?” Fitz says, confused. He only recognizes Mack from the pictures of him and Elena that Jemma has shown him. He's definitely from another spy organization and possibly dating Jemma's ex. This all smells funny.

“Yeah,” says Mack. “Want a ride to the gate?”

“I probably shouldn’t be speaking with you at all.”

“Relax, our agencies are friendly,” Mack says. Fitz scoffs. “Mostly. I'm allowed to be here, aren't I?”

Fitz narrows his eyes. This long expanse of road ends at an iron gate that looks real far away with the temptation of a cushion’s seat so nearby. But... “I’ve been advised against trusting strangers,” he says dutifully, calling to mind all he's read during his field training.

“It’s a short car ride or a long walk.”

Fitz keeps his eyes ahead. His backpack is filled with coils of wires that are heavier than they look on their own. He sighs and takes it off, approaches the car. Mack stops and lets him in. They sit in silence as the windows roll back up and the car makes nothing of the distance Fitz would have walked.

“Are you going to this party I heard about?” Mack asks after some silence. “Elena wants me to go with her.”

“Uh, yeah.” Fitz folds his arms. Jemma's not gonna like that. “Are you just gathering intel?”

“I’ll be at the party,” Mack says, shaking his head. “I’m just making small talk.”

“Well, I may show up.” Fitz shrugs. He glances at Mack, wonders if he'll ever see him without a suit. He's not sure why he's so eager to. “Trip’s a friend. But Jemma and Daisy are going together so...I haven't got a date or whatever.”

Mack definitely is not gathering intel. Leaving Daisy's case didn't bode well with his higher-ups and he's temporarily been given desk duty. He's curious about the SHIELD cadets, sure, especially the ones connected to Elena. But he's over spying on other spies when they barely know what’s going on.

“Of course they are,” Mack says, regarding Daisy and Jemma. “It’s a good thing Elena’s not a lesbian or I’d be screwed.”

“Right, but she's not straight.”

“Excuse me?”

The vehicle jerks forward and Fitz raises a brow at Mack. He looks confused and surprised, which shouldn't be the case if he's even looked at Elena ever. Fitz supposes it makes sense if he doesn't know… Mack gathered intel on Daisy, not Jemma, so it's possible if totally unlikely.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Fitz says, only when the car is stopped. Mack shakes his head. “Oh… Well! Thanks for the ride.” Fitz rushes out, crosses the gate with his ID, and heads right for Jemma's dorm.

*

Elena meets Mack at his parked car. His arms are folded and he's scrutinizing her with the same look he used to give Daisy's file. This stranger may be hiding something big from him. But she's smiling as she approaches, dressed in combat gear and still sweaty from her previous class. The guest parking lot is relatively empty save for the occasional armed guard and no one nearby would hear them.

“Something wrong?” Elena asks, hooking her fingers into Mack's belt loops. Always the flirt.

“I thought you liked me,” he says. “Or am I just your free ride?

“How old are we, CIA Man?” she teases, getting up on her tiptoes to get close to his face. “Do you want to pass a note to me? You want me to check yes?”

“I thought you liked _men_. But a little birdie told me you weren't straight.”

Elena chuckles and falls to her feet. She thought the worse she'd deal with in this country was the racism. Now it's her turn to frown and fold her arms and look at him like a traitor.

“Men, women, everyone else,” she says, shrugging. “It's all the same to me.”

“Really?”

“Some people are bi, Mack!”

His frown softens but doesn't leave his face. He thinks back to Fitz, whom he only knew from pictures of him and Jemma that Elena showed him. Mack picked him up a short while ago because he wanted to see those blue eyes up close.

“Men and women, it's all the same,” Mack reiterates.

“Yes,” Elena says, relaxing her arms. “And everybody else. So do we have a problem?”

Mack shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry. Just having trouble trusting people lately.”

He opens the door for her and she scoffs. He holds it open and raises his eyebrows at her but she doesn't enter.

“I don't need you for a ride,” Elena says. “I can take a cab home.”

“And to the party.”

“Without you.”

Mack closes the door and approaches her, placing his hands on her arms. Her fauxhawk is in a high bun and there is something masculine about how she's dressed, how she looks, how she holds herself.

“Any chance you own a pantsuit?” he asks.

“For interviews,” Elena says, narrowing her eyes.

Mack smirks. “Then I have an idea.”

*

In retrospect, getting ready for the party in Jemma's dorm room wasn't the brightest idea. Sure, her roommate has all but disappeared off the face of the Earth which means that Jemma and Daisy have the space to freely be their weird selves. But the only mirror was the medicine cabinet and the tiny bathroom is not meant for two.

At first, they took turns in front of the bathroom mirror. They decided on makeup and their hair, and were in separate rooms from each other to get undressed and dressed. They made it through their first wine bottle that afternoon while painting their nails, then threw caution out the window.

“So...Elena and Mack,” Daisy said, suggestive, wondering if Jemma will ever explicitly say that she dated Elena. Or whatever that was.

“Yeah,” Jemma said. Her face scrunched up like she was eating a lemon.

“How do you like that?”

“I don't.”

Well, that was enough of that. An episode of Grey's, huddled over Jemma's laptop, and they were back to girly business. They give each other the once over. Daisy rips off her blouse at Jemma's advice and puts on something else. Jemma tries not to stare, she doesn't want to be rude, but holy crap is Daisy super hot. She decides against the dress she's wearing which she just purchased, because Daisy insists comfort is paramount and Jemma feels suffocated by the material. Daisy absolutely doesn't stare when Jemma takes off her dress, but she can't stop thinking of that extra bit of skin she saw.

Back in the tiny bathroom, a second wine bottle is among their makeup on the crowded counter. Jemma goes for a more natural look and spends most of her time in front of the mirror with a hair curler, while Daisy pulls out all the stops for her own makeup and decides on a high pony. They're smiling and giggly, their faces close. They look at each other in the mirror as much as at their own faces. They tease each other, and delicately touch each other's faces when the other asks for help with their makeup. It gets a honking laugh out of Jemma when Daisy moves just her torso to avoid the hot curling iron. It's all silly and nice and fun and Daisy has never felt this comfortable with another person.

They're basically ready when Jemma fishes an eyelash curler out of Daisy's bag. She leans close to the mirror and blinks a few times, scrutinizing her eyes.

“Can you help me with this?” Jemma asks. In a fluid movement she hands Daisy the device and faces her. “I've never used one.”

“And you chose tonight to be your first time?” Daisy holds Jemma's chin, wondering a moment what kissing her would be like, and carefully angles the curler toward her eye. “Halfway through our second bottle of wine?”

“Ow!” Jemma's eye shuts tight when Daisy accidentally pokes her, and Daisy drops the curler on the ground. “You're right, I'm an idiot. Get me an eyepatch.”

Daisy chuckles. “Sorry.” She kisses Jemma's brow. Jemma blinks a few times and grins.

When they're done cleaning up, they stand in front of the mirror and admire each other. And themselves. But mostly each other. Besides the high pony, Daisy has two long curls shaping her face. She wears a violet bralette, a high-waisted skirt, dark red lipstick, serious and sexy. Jemma's long curls fall over her green-blue ombre dress, sweet with the sky blue eyeliner. They take turns in front of the mirror, then playfully fight for a spot in front of it, and finally Daisy stands just behind her. They take a moment to marvel at the pockets in Jemma's dress.

“You look gorgeous,” Jemma says.

“Thank you,” says Daisy. She presses right against her, hands slipping into her pockets. “You look excellent as well.”

They're not so much standing as leaning on each other now. Jemma closes her eyes, focusing on the sharp perfume from Daisy's neck and the way her hands rest on Jemma's hips. Just like they'd fought for their place in front of the mirror, their hands fight for space in her pockets. Trying to find a way for their hands to comfortably meet seems impossible in those comparatively small pockets so Jemma grabs Daisy's wrists and brings her arms around her waist. Daisy laughs softly, and Jemma meets her eyes in the mirror. They rest their faces against each other, lips so close together but in the wrong direction.

“Let's finish that wine and call a cab?” Daisy says after a beat.

“Alright.”

Moving away from each other feels like something goes missing. They get drunker, call a cab, and go out for a very memorable night.


	7. Party Queen, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lincoln shows up at the party, to Daisy's dismay. Elena has more fun than her. Jemma makes an important decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted Friday, May 10
> 
> I've been sick and feeling disenchanted...hope this exciting (heh) update makes up for my lateness. I'm very proud of this chapter...

Everyone knows that Antoine Triplett is at least two things: a S.H.I.E.L.D. legacy, grandson of a howling commando, recent Academy grad on his way to higher pastures. The second thing? A giant social butterfly. He'd invited only Fitz to this party personally, then tacked on that he should be joined by Jemma and that Inhuman she hangs around with. He did this with everyone. And almost everyone listened.

The cab drops Jemma, Daisy, and a dapper Fitz off in front of an apartment building downtown. Fitz is sober. He almost doesn't come to the party but two beautiful drunk girls knocked on his door until he put on a blazer and joined them. The ride over is fun enough with Jemma between them in the backseat and they all expect a good night. Jemma hooks arms with her best friends as they approach the building's entrance.

“Trip said there'd be some fun party favors,” Fitz tells the girls.

“Like some beer to catch you up?” Daisy says.

“Is it true he has a balcony?” Jemma asks. “Oh, the view from that height must be magnificent!”

They're chatting gleefully, finally all friends as Jemma had hoped all those months ago, when Daisy trips over a cobblestone. Jemma doesn't have the faculties to help her and in fact starts going down as well. But Fitz is there to grab her, and someone else is there to grab Daisy.

“I've got you,” Lincoln says, helping her back to her feet.

She hates the sight of him. She holds onto him for a drunken second (a few, for the average sober person), then shoves him away. Fitz and Jemma share a look.

“What do you want?” Daisy snaps.

“I just wanna tell you something,” he says, so soft and sincere. He's such an expert manipulator. But she's missed him so much. His hand hovers over hers. She glances at Jemma, whose eyes are full of worry. All this desire that had been tugging at Daisy's chest gives another pull.

“You go ahead without me,” she tells Jemma.

“You don't have to talk to him,” Jemma says.

“I'll be right in. Promise.”

Jemma nods. She grabs Fitz's hand and they enter the building. Lincoln takes Daisy's hand but she snatches it away. They walk together a few feet away from the entrance, out of the way of other partygoers. She turns to him and looks at him expectantly. The fire raging in her rises as he looks her up and down. Finally, he smiles at her.

“You two finally together?” he asks.

“What do you want?” Daisy says. God bless makeup for hiding her natural blush.

“To let you know that the CIA came through with their job offer,” Lincoln says. “So you don't have to worry about me being your spy anymore.”

That wasn't Daisy's biggest worry. Relief allows her shoulders to drop. In another life, she would've been happy for him. Right now she wants to get back to her friends and move on.

“Good for you,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “Does that mean you'll cease to be in my life? Finally?”

Lincoln scoffs and locks his jaw. He has that expression on his face he always has when he's ready to devastate her. All righteous, smug anger and no ability to look her in the eye. “You still think I'm the only bad guy?”

“Are we done here?”

“I hope she makes you happy,” he says, finally meeting her eyes. “And if she doesn't...I hope someone can.”

*

Trip's apartment is almost at the top floor, which makes the lonely elevator ride up even more dizzying. Daisy's exhausted. The elevator doors open and she's bombarded by music and the chattering of a crowd. Finding the apartment is easy enough, because there are people hanging around outside the door. Including the host himself.

“Trip?” Daisy says as she approaches him.

“John!” he says.

She chuckles. “Stop calling me that! Why are you out here and not at your party?”

“Welcoming all my beautiful guests. Speaking of, hello.”

He takes her hand, kisses the back of it, and opens the door for her. She winks at him and heads inside, frowns again. It's dark save for some colorful strobe lights so she expects not to find her friends very easily. But she sees Jemma right away, dancing awkwardly but happy, her hands firmly in Elena's. Daisy walks over slowly, allows herself a weak smile when Jemma notices her and smiles brightly. Fitz and Mack are feet away being wallflowers and clinging to plastic cups. Daisy joins them.

“Elena's wearing a suit,” she says.

Not just that, but her hair is combed up into a pompadour style and hidden at the back of her head. She straddles the line between feminine and masculine beautifully, faceful of makeup. She's so happy dancing with Jemma.

“She looks better than any man in this building in that suit,” Mack says.

“I concur,” Fitz says.

The song ends and the girls hug. The next song starts and Elena gives Jemma a spin. Daisy's sick with it. How did Lincoln know where Daisy would be? Why is Elena all over Jemma now? Why is Mack, who'd stalked Daisy the better part of two years, suddenly in this friend group? Why did Daisy think she was a part of it? The boys chat and smile together. Daisy thinks about the pack of cigarettes in her purse.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom,” she says, and leaves for the balcony without another word.

When the song’s over, Jemma joins the boys against the wall. She's out of breath and her feet already hurt but that's all okay. She sips from her drink and contemplates going out to mingle; maybe when Daisy gets back?

“Your turn, Scotsman,” Elena says, taking Fitz wrists in her hands.

“What about Mack?!” says Fitz. He can barely hold his weight away from her.

“I danced enough before y'all got here, thank you,” Mack says.

Jemma takes Fitz's drink, offering Elena the assist. “Have fuuun!” she says.

Elena, easily stronger than her new dance partner, and Fitz, who secretly wants to dance, are soon amongst the other dancing partygoers. Mack admires them: the expert way in which Elena moves her body, the awkward but cute way Fitz moves his. After a minute he's smiling and his dancing gets better. Maybe the drink taking affect. That phrase Elena said earlier, some people are bi… Mack can't stop thinking about it now, watching Fitz.

He's still a spy. An observer. Those earlier conversations with Fitz and Elena made Daisy's behavior so obvious. She spent hardly anytime in their presence, just watched Elena and Jemma until she got upset and left. Lincoln was so angry when he realized it. The way Daisy looks at Jemma. And Mack saw that look on Jemma too, when Daisy walked in.

“You know... I've never seen Daisy pine over someone like she does over you,” Mack says.

Jemma looks up at him, her face betraying no emotion. “You mean while you spied on her?”

“I understand if you don't trust me. But I'm telling you I've seen her with other men and she's never looked so smitten.”

Jemma is drink. On a normal day, she'd be tapping nervously on her solo cup. But now she feels herself smile. This is right. This sounds right, it feels right. “Why are you telling me this?” she asks. “Why do you care?”

“I might've learned something huge about myself today,” Mack says. “Confused and lonely is no way to be.”

Jemma continues to smile wistfully. She takes another sip of her liquid courage. Fitz and Elena return with their arms around each other and giggling.

“I'm going for a smoke,” says Elena. “Another dance when I return, Dr. Simmons?”

“I think I'd like to dance with my date,” Jemma says. “When she gets back.”

“Suit yourself. Did I use that phrase right?”

Fitz gives her a thumbs up and Mack gives her an OK symbol. When she's disappeared through the crowd, Fitz elbows Jemma's side.

“Your date, huh?” he says, all smiles. “Must feel good to say.”

“It is,” Jemma whispers. “Fitz, it feels so good. I have to talk to her. I have to tell her.”

“About damn time,” Mack says.

Jemma detaches herself from the wall and takes a stumbling step forward. Maybe not the best idea to make such a huge decision while this drunk but she's so excited right now. They'll need privacy and Jemma will want to disappear if she's rejected.

“I have to find her,” Jemma says. She points to where she vaguely remembers the bathroom being, from a previous visit. “Bathroom's that way, yeah?”

“She didn't go that way,” Mack says, shaking his head. “Maybe she went to the balcony?”

Which would mean she lied, which is weird; and that she's with Elena, which could be weird. Jemma gives Fitz her empty cup and takes Mack's hand in hers.

“Let's go find our dates,” she says, and drags him away.

“Don't mind me, I'll just stay here alone,” Fitz calls after them. Typical Saturday night.

Daisy's alone, for a few minutes. The entrance to the balcony is so far-removed from the bulk of the party that she was lucky enough to find it abandoned. It's a breathtaking view. The buildings of downtown glisten with their lights. She looks at them through smoke, blowing carelessly in front of her. It's peaceful. And as the nicotine adds another layer of dizziness onto her, she thinks she might calm down enough to enjoy this party.

The door to the balcony opens and she doesn't look. She'll be leaving soon anyway. She doesn't expect anyone to come and ruin her night more.

“Miss Daisy!” says Elena, all smiles. She leans on the guardrail next to Daisy, who sighs and moves away. Daisy finds another spot against the guardrail as far from Elena as possible.

“I thought this party would be lame but I have been dancing all night,” Elena says. Daisy hears her light a cigarette. “Feels good.”

Anger simmers just under the surface of Daisy's skin. She doesn't need to hear this and she sure as hell doesn't want to. What gives? Elena steps closer as she smokes. Daisy only sees her in her periphery, on that dark balcony where little detail comes through. Still, Elena is handsome and confident even with the littlest detail.

“Mack, he's a good dancer,” Elena continues. “Fitz is less serious than I thought. And Jemma…oh, you know Jemma.”

Daisy finally looks at Elena, who stands in the middle of the balcony looking as smug as ever. She pushes away from the guardrail and just stands there watching Elena, daring her. Waiting to see where this goes. Begging this cigarette to be inhaled faster.

“She's practically begging me to come back to her,” Elena continues. “With her pretty smile and her sexy dress... She doesn't even know when she's being flirty. She's so naive, it's cute. Maybe I should take her back.

“Then there's Daisy Johnson.” Elena shortens the gap between them, taking slurred steps forward. Every individual thing she says next feels like another slap in the face. “You are, like...the biggest loser in the graduating class. You're the weakest Inhuman in the program. You have no friends, no one trusts you. You don't have Lincoln, you don't have Fitz… You don't even have Jemma.”

She's looks so delighted with her bullet points of Daisy's faults. So pleased with her taunts. Daisy is fuming. She takes her own steps forward and now they're inches apart. It's the closest they've ever been, physically. Daisy hates how inadequate it makes her feel to be standing so close to this gorgeous, confident queer woman with seemingly not a care in the world. Elena opens her mouth to speak again and Daisy is ready to snap.

“Shut up, Elena,” Daisy says. She drops her cigarette butt and stomps it down, trying to pour all her angry energy into it.

Elena is a natural flirt. She licks her lips. She touches the exposed skin on Daisy’s ribs below the bralette. She draws a daring line with her finger, gives Daisy those bedroom eyes, and whispers in her sultriest voice: “You wanna make me?”

Daisy's fist flies out in front of her without another conscious thought and connects with Elena's jaw. Daisy had been dreaming of this moment and the haze she's in has all but eradicated her conscience. The words escape her more than she consciously yells, “I said shut up, dyke!” And immediately Elena laughs, hand on her bruising face, eyes on the door Daisy hasn't noticed was opened.

“What the hell?!” Mack yells. He storms forward and shoves Daisy away, wrapping an arm around Elena's shoulders. Jemma stands at the door, an unreadable expression on her face.

“I'm fine, Alphonso,” Elena says. “Let's just go.”

Mack gives Daisy the stink eye and takes Elena back inside. Before entering, Elena pats Jemma's check and smirks at Daisy. The door shuts behind them, leaving Jemma and Daisy alone. Daisy feels so small and stupid as Jemma's expression contorts into confusion and pain. She approaches Jemma, tries to speak, but what can she say? What does anyone say after something like that?

“Why did you hit her?” Jemma asks.

“Sh-she's taking everything from me!” Daisy says.

“Everything?” Jemma scoffs. “You have me!”

The music from inside doesn't even register anymore. It's kind of cold out here; Jemma shivers but her hands stay at her sides, curled into fists. She'd come looking for Daisy to… Does it even matter now? She doesn't know what to make of what she'd seen. She can't imagine what Elena could've said or done to elicit such a response from Daisy. But even as she wants to be angry at Daisy, the feeling is mild. Daisy looks lost and hurt. She's never looked more full of regret since Jemma has known her.

“I know that, Jemma,” Daisy says.

“No,” Jemma says. “No, you don't! And I'm tired of it.”

“Jemma--”

“No. I'm done tiptoeing around this.” Jemma takes a deep breath then a step forward, bridging the gap between them. “I like you, Daisy. Don't you know that? I-I'm… I've fancied you for a long time.”

This is exhausting. Jemma's exhausted. Her heart hammers in her chest with a million fears and emotions. But also, a weight is lifted off her shoulders. And Daisy's expression relaxes. She looks at Jemma's lips for a moment, then back up at her eyes. They move closer together as if for one of their magnetic hugs, but this is slower and more calculated, more intimate; Daisy closes her eyes as their foreheads touch and Jemma reaches for her hand.

It feels natural, simple in the moment. Their fingers intertwine. Daisy's free hand rests on Jemma's neck. Jemma's finds her waist, pulls her closer so they're touching. And it's so warm, compared to the cold night air, just to hold her.

“I…” Daisy starts. She opens her eyes only slightly. Jemma's thumb brushes where Elena's finger had. And before their lips can even touch, a lifetime of fears makes Daisy seize up. “I can't…” she says, even though her hands linger as she pulls away. She can't stand to see the way sadness takes over Jemma's face.

“Daisy--” Jemma starts, just as Daisy practically runs past her.

“I can't, Jemma!” And she disappears inside, past her friends, storms past the host. She needs to get the hell out of here. She needs to get away from all of this. She fucked up so bad.

Jemma watches her walk away as long as she can. She wasn't imagining things. They were so close. That moment was more exciting than any time with Elena. Which only makes the aftermath hurt worse. She leans against the brick wall and takes deep breaths, trying not to cry. When the door opens and it's not Daisy, she does cry. But it's Fitz and he holds her, not even waiting for an explanation. They'll have time.

*

What a fucking fantastic, monumental, brilliant, beautiful, shitty fucking night. Daisy paces outside the building waiting on a cab. She's been chain smoking like an old cartoon. Everything replays in her head and it's a confusion of shit and she just wants to go home. She lights what will be her 4th cigarette in half an hour but it...disappears once it's lit. She looks around frantically, thinking she may have lost her mind, and Elena is approaching slowly with a freshly lit cigarette between her fingers. Her hair’s down, covering the side of her face Daisy punched.

“Mack's taking me home,” she says. “My face hurts.”

“Why don't you fucking disappear?” Daisy snaps at her. She wipes frantically at her eyes, as if anything is hidden.

“I see that talk you had with Jemma didn't go very well.” Elena arches a brow, smirking. “Thank you for the cigarette, by the way.”

“If she knew the kind of person you are, she wouldn't be your friend. Or your anything.” Daisy keeps her voice low, not wanting to attract any strangers’ ears. They're in the middle of the sidewalk looking like hot messes. “She deserves better than you,” Daisy finishes sharply.

“And that's definitely not you,” says Elena. So smooth; everything comes so damn easy for her. “Everytime Jemma learns something new about you she resents you. What happens when she learns the kind of person _you_ are?”

Elena emphasizes the “you” with a hard, sharp poke on Daisy's arm. She can tell Elena used her powers because it hurt like a paintball. Daisy hisses. The ground starts to shake. Here's Elena, the goddess that came out of nowhere to live Daisy's life better and tease her about it. Every word she's said to Daisy tonight has hurt so bad. Daisy just lets the tears freefall, hurt melting to apathy giving way to rage. Elena's little smirk fades as she shakes with the earth.

Tears drawing lines down her blushing cheeks, Daisy yells, “Stay away from me!”

She's so out of it. She tries to push Elena away but she isn't close enough to even touch. Elena still goes flying and Daisy sees it happen before the pain trickles up her forearms. The cigarette falls and so does Elena, onto a car fifteen yards away. Her arms instinctively move below her to break the fall then bend in a way they shouldn't. Glass breaks, metal bends. Elena screams, bystanders gasp. Daisy starts to fall over from the pain in her own arms. This all happens in seconds. She's out before she hits the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know everyone's excited and busy now that the show is back! Comments still much appreciated.


	8. The Graduate Tea

Jemma's taken up knitting again. She'd stopped the practice before because she was so obsessed with perfect stitches and so devastated by imperfect ones that it became more of a stressor than a hobby. So meticulous her every movement has to be; so impossible that perfection is to reach. But she needs something to look at. She knows she looks crazy. Murmuring numbers to herself, pausing every few stitches to undo and redo them, putting everything down to stretch and massage her fingers. And count and count, and repeat and repeat. It's too warm for a scarf but it's the only thing she knows to make. Hopefully Elena likes it. She picks it up again and continues the stressful, dissatisfying stitching.

A few months ago, just before they met, Daisy saw Jemma give a lecture on a device she'd designed with Fitz. The device, a pair of long gloves, would help the healing process of small, imperceptible but dangerous fractures. Daisy’s wearing the gloves now, which is excellent because it makes her arms feel almost numb. They're also heavy and she's not high so her body feels unbalanced without the benefit of a serene mood. Jemma's alone in the waiting area outside the operating room. From the end of the hall, Daisy watches as she builds up the courage to talk to her. Then she walks over.

“Hey,” Daisy says, as gently as possible.

Jemma is still startled and barely gives Daisy a glance before acknowledging her. “What are you doing here?” she says, as bitter as she's been since the party a few days ago.

“Checking on Elena...and on you,” Daisy says, lightly tapping Jemma's foot with her own.

“She's in another surgery,” says Jemma. She finally looks up. “Why don't you go to hell instead?”

It hurts as much for Jemma to say as it hurts Daisy to hear. Jemma doesn't say those sort of things. But she's had a headache since she saw Elena getting carded away by the ambulance, to a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility to save her arms. Daisy's arms were broken too, her powers coming out at a scale she'd never shown before, but they weren't so bad that the gloves Jemma designed couldn't help her. Elena's case was a different story.

“I guess I deserve that,” Daisy says, still looking at Jemma even if Jemma looks away. Daisy's hoping the right words to say will come to her. Even Fitz has never seen Jemma so upset. Jemma knits away and Daisy only moves when she feels Mack walk past her.

“Hey, should you be anywhere near the victim?” Mack asks, which prompts Daisy to roll her eyes.

“I'll come back later,” she says. She goes back down the hall. Jemma exhales when she's out of sight.

S.H.I.E.L.D. and the local cops have a disagreement on who should be handling this situation. As far as S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Academy are concerned, this was a light scuffle between two Inhuman cadets. The local cops saw the totaled car and two foreigners on visas with broken arms and took the case out of a sense of responsibility. Jemma’s sure S.H.I.E.L.D. will end up in charge, whether it’s the right thing or not. She doesn’t even know anymore.

“You were a little harsh on Daisy,” Mack says, handing Jemma her coffee. He takes the cold, cushioned seat next to her.

“She could've killed her,” Jemma says. She holds her coffee, just warming her hands. “Besides, she knew she deserved me being snippy.”

“Maybe...but it was an accident and she's hurt too,” Mack reasons. Having entered this friend group right before it shattered gave him his own sense of responsibility. Even if he’s mad at Daisy for what she did, he doesn’t want it to get in the way of her and Jemma. So he asks Jemma, softly, “She's your friend, isn't she?”

And Jemma just shrugs. Her knitting needles are still in her lap as she sips her coffee silently.

Mack nods, leans back. He’d learned some upcoming S.H.I.E.L.D. technology is frequently tested on Academy cadets and Elena is getting the state-of-the-art treatment she deserves. To hell with Daisy and her feelings (for now). “Well, she was never my friend so I'm good with being pissed at her,” he says, offering Jemma his cup to clink.

She does. “Amen to that.”

*

The past few months have been a roller coaster of novel emotional highs and lows. Jemma isn't perfect, as much as she may obsess over it. Before meeting Daisy, Jemma would've never gotten more than tipsy. Now, preparing for this stupid afternoon tea has her nursing a bottle of whiskey Daisy had left in her room. Fitz had signed himself and Jemma up to host an event for their fellow seniors. It's the first time she's going to be in the same room as Daisy since the hospital. She's wrecked about it. She's so righteously angry, even after Elena's successful surgeries. Nervously drinking while preparing the snacks she's bringing slows down her heart rate, quiets the numbers spinning in her head.

The walk to the event room is a blur. She's in a dress she hates, a verifiable bucket of tiny sandwiches in her hands. She faces away from the door, knocks three times with her heel, and turns back around to smile. Fitz opens, looking prim and proper in a tie as usual.

“Friend!” he says. He takes the bucket and Jemma stumbles forward, chuckles. “It's, uh, good you're here. Help me set up?”

Halfway through Jemma stumbling around with napkins and plastic cups, Fitz asks, “Are you drunk?”

“I don't know,” she slurs. He keeps his disgust to himself for now.

Eventually, Jemma takes her seat and gives up helping. Seniors start trickling in and crowding around tables. A few help Fitz, which Jemma is relieved to see. When Daisy shows, Jemma is just relieved her head is so hazy. She takes her assigned seat, two down from Jemma. The empty one between them would’ve belonged to Elena.

It’s been a few weeks. Elena’s in physical therapy now, doing well it’s been said. Daisy has given Jemma her space. She’s holding out for a hope she never even had in her before meeting Jemma; a hope that someone will last in her life. She fucked up. She gets that. Maybe she deserves to be forgiven for once.

“Greetings, S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy graduating class!” Fitz says. He’s standing at a table with some professors. Daisy tries to pay attention to his speech but she keeps looking at and wondering about Jemma, who looks sleepy and distant. “We’ve been gathered this afternoon for a very British treat…”

Who listens to these kinds of speeches anyway? It’s sweet, and a blushing Fitz looks relieved once it’s over, then everyone gets down to business. Daisy worships her little tea cup and talks to no one, as per usual; except Jemma is a few feet away, picking at the snacks she collected on her plate. Fitz goes around saying hello to people, dodging questions about why Jemma isn’t playing host as well. He makes it to hers and Daisy’s table and gives Daisy a hug from behind.

“Nice fancy boring British party,” Daisy says, grinning at him.

“Say ‘boring British party’ five times fast,” he says with a smile. Daisy tries, and fails. He looks at Jemma, who’s pointedly facing away from Daisy. “Uh, Jemma made the little sandwiches.”

“They're...strange,” someone else at the table says.

“I think they're pretty good,” Daisy says, taking a bite. She isn’t kissing ass; she liked the sandwiches before knowing who made them. But who can tell intent these days?

“No one asked you, Daisy,” Jemma snaps, finally looking at her old friend.

Daisy looks goddamn gorgeous because of course she does. It's the first time Jemma has consciously thought about missing her and liking her and wanting her. She notices the differences right away: warmer weather means more time outside means Daisy is more tan than usual; her hair is almost imperceptibly longer. They’re the kind of differences you only notice after being away from someone for some time.

“Jemma, it's been weeks,” Daisy says. Her voice cracks on the last word. “What do I have to do for you to be civil toward me?”

“Give Elena full use of her arms!”

There are some raised eyebrows facing their direction, except for Fitz whose eyebrows are tightly knit together. Rumors go around. People think Elena and Daisy got into a real fight. Some know the truth about the argument and the accident. Some believe Daisy straight up tried to kill Elena. Jemma's behavior doesn't help that.

“She's gonna be fine,” Daisy says. She leans closer and whispers. “S.H.I.E.L.D. has ridiculous tech that's helping her.”

Jemma leans in to whisper back, “It should've been you.”

Someone whistles and every eavesdropper goes back to their teas. Fitz sighs, places his hand on Daisy's arm; but she's standing up before he can provide any comfort.

“The sandwiches suck,” Daisy snaps. She leaves, runs away like usual, and keeps imagining how to fix this.

To Jemma's credit, she stays behind after to clean up. She's not so much drunk anymore as she is exhausted. Fitz thanks everyone that attended as they leave. He picks up the garbage bags they created, a heavy frown on his face growing whenever he looks at Jemma. She ignores it, because she's sure she deserves it; she was a terrible co-host. But he's ready to talk about it once they're outside of the building.

“You show up to the tea drunk?” Fitz says, leading the way to the dumpsters. “Cause a scene?”

“Elena should've been here,” Jemma says. She tosses are garbage bag over and sighs, feeling the exhaustion throughout her whole body. Fitz stands in front of Jemma with his arm folded. “And I haven't been able to go see her this week,” she continues, an admission that has her eyes filling with tears.

The tension quickly leaves Fitz’s body. He rubs her arm. Jemma taps patterns on her thigh furiously. One two three, one two, one. Onetwothree onetwo one. It's the only thing left that makes sense.

“I know you miss her but this isn't you,” Fitz says. He takes her hand. “This isn't how you behave.”

“Maybe you don't know me anymore,” Jemma says softly, looking at their clasped hands.

Fitz tries to think of how he can help and realizes he doesn't want to. Since Daisy and Elena, he and Jemma aren't attached at the hip anymore. And he doesn’t like this look on her. He lets go of her hand. “Maybe I don't.”

He walks away, back toward his dorm. She goes in the opposite direction and bumps into someone immediately after turning the corner.

“So you're drunk,” Daisy said, not even bothering to remove the cigarette from her lips.

“What are you still doing here?” Jemma asks. Today's been exhausting enough.

Daisy gestures to the dumpster, with the hand now holding the cigarette. “Hanging out with trash, where I belong.”

She'd spent some time thinking of what to say or do while chain-smoking. Nothing seemed right so she chose to try to make Jemma laugh. She doesn't; but the tight smile resisting the urge to is enough. It's a sight Daisy hasn't seen in so long. The saddest happy feeling in her chest swells.

“What do you want, Johnson?” Jemma asks, looking more relaxed.

_You. I want you._ That's what a braver Daisy would've said. “Just…to apologize,” she says instead. “Again. And to say that…” She takes a deep breath and steps closer, ignores how Jemma seems to tense up. Every muscle in Daisy's body is ready to run. But she manages to say, “I wanted you too,” without breaking into a million pieces. In fact, it feels kind of good.

She doesn't know how to read Jemma's expression. That underlying anger softens further but something else trickles in that Daisy can't recognize. They're both thinking about that night, which they both can't stop thinking about. What rarely took the spotlight was the moment they had on that balcony. Thinking of it now and that almost kiss… What Jemma feels is heartbreak. Everyone was right, then; Daisy liked her too. But it doesn't make Elena any less hurt.

“Too late,” Jemma says. This time, she runs away.

*

The room in the specialized S.H.I.E.L.D. facility a couple hours from campus is just above a dormitory room in quality. That's how Elena sees it. Her bed just slightly more comfortable, the bathroom a bit bigger. She even has a couch for guests! She prefers her apartment, sure, but at least S.H.I.E.L.D. is paying for that too. She's so spoiled.

Jemma's sat on the couch and she's a nervous wreck. She's willing her OCD to chill out for once but her leg is shaking and Elena's optimism is sending it to hyperspeed. Her optimism and bright smile does not distract from the scars and visible metal in her upper arms. Even as she stretches in front of Jemma like some kind of mating ritual, showing off her muscles. Jemma knows that while Elena's healing and Daisy roams free, the right thing to feel is upset. Why isn't Elena more angry?

“What does being angry do for me?” Elena says. “I'm a cyborg now. I don't even have that feeling.”

Jemma sinks into her seat. “I suspect you never did,” she deadpans.

This earns a smirk from Elena, who sits next to her. She tries to hide how it hurts like hell for her to drape her arm around Jemma's shoulders. But she hisses and the look of terror on Jemma's face is unreal.

“I heard you're still being tough on Daisy,” Elena says.

“She broke your arms!” Jemma says.

“It was an accident. S.H.I.E.L.D. is helping. But you know that. And there's more you should know.”

Elena explains how she'd been teasing Daisy for weeks. It was as fun for her to win over Jemma as it was for her to watch Daisy lose. Jemma doesn't like that. She shifts in her seat, closes her eyes tightly as Elena recalls the details of that night. It does sound like she provoked Daisy...and to Daisy's credit, she always takes full responsibility despite also hurting herself. Even hearing this all from Elena, part of Jemma wishes she'd heard it from Daisy.

“You're still hurt,” Jemma says, ever defiant. The boxes she places everything in inside her mind are crumbling; the carefully constructed rules are blurring to the point of being unrecognizable. She’s always stressed about it.

“Yes but I need you to know I'm not innocent,” Elena says. She kisses Jemma's temple. It's sweet, not flirty like usual.

“Well…” Jemma smiles sadly at her friend, feeling another headache coming on. “I suppose none of us are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm almost done writing this mess of a first fic and it's been so fun. I meant to post this last week and left it as a draft...oops. Expect chapters 9 and 10 very soon!
> 
> I'm [emofitz on tumblr](https://emofitz.tumblr.com/) if you wanna check that out, say hi, squeal about the new season with me..
> 
> Comments and messages, short and long, are super appreciated <3


	9. Afternoon Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy gets good news. Jemma grows closer to Mack and Elena. Daisy and Jemma have some tense conversation.

Daisy would've been able to visit Elena at the city hospital at any time. The S.H.I.E.L.D. facility she was transferred to requires a unique invitation, one Daisy receives just after learning from Fitz that Elena would start class again Monday. There are about a million pounds of weight on her as she opens the door to Elena's hospital room that Sunday afternoon.

“Hey...Elena?” Daisy says.

It does look like your average hospital room. The fact that Elena isn't immediately visible is unnerving. But she enters from an adjacent room, looking normal if a bit tired. Her upper arms are covered; she's wearing a gratuitously oversized My Chemical Romance t-shirt as a dress and seemingly nothing else. Her normally delicately designed here is in waves down her chest. What Daisy can see of her arms look fine.

“It's good to...to see you,” Daisy says. “Again, finally.”

“You planning to quake me?”

No one in their right mind smiles after making a joke like that. But there was Elena, smug as ever, hopping onto her bed and looking oh so pleased.

“I… no,” Daisy says.

“Lucky me, S.H.I.E.L.D. has a drug that increases bone healing,” says Elena, showing Daisy her palms. “If you ever decided to.”

That's when Daisy realizes Elena's arms are shaking, at least when she holds them up like this. And in her palms are what look like metal screws. When she lowers her hands, rests her arms in her lap, they stay unnaturally open. Like maybe it's too painful to close them, or her wrists won't move that way. Daisy recognizes that look of someone hiding the pain they're in. She's felt it often enough.

“I'm so sorry,” Daisy says, immediately in tears. Elena raises her eyebrows. “I'm- I don't know what happened. I keep thinking and rethinking that night. I l-lost control, I'm… I didn't mean to hurt you.”

Elena nods. She slides off the bed, gestures at the couch. Daisy sits. She's clearly remorseful and suffering psychically for what she did. Elena remains in full control of her emotions; Daisy can only read pain on her face.

“Not all the rumors about me are lies,” she says. “I was recruited from jail. I made a mistake and...if someone had forgiven me, my life would be different.”

Daisy knows better than to be hopeful...but she is anyway. She doesn't know how else to react to this info dump. “What are you saying?” she asks.

“I dropped the charges. I don't want this to ruin your life.”

“But I...ruined yours.”

Elena brings her hands into weak fists. Daisy sees the effort in her pained expression and further trembling.

“I'll be fine,” she says. “And when I get my strength back, I'm punching you in the face.”

“That's fair.” Daisy stands up, wanting their eyes to be level. “More than fair. Punch me with each fist.”

“You got it.” Elena winks and walks over to a dresser, which she struggles to open; she raises her hand when Daisy rushes over to help. She takes out a thick manila folder and tosses it on the bed. “And for extra payback, I got some dirt on you.”

That is most definitely a file with Daisy's name on it. Elena explains that she may have been driven around by Mack recently and stopped by his work. Someone may have sneaked into a secure room and erased some CIA files, including one about a Chinese-American girl who was labeled an orphan despite her dad being alive and well in another country.

“How much did you read?” Daisy asks, her jaw locked tight.

“Just the summary,” she said. “Ran out of time and typing too much hurts. I had other things to look at.” Daisy looks guilty at the mention of Elena's pain so Elena lets it sit for a moment before continuing. “Catholic orphanage, huh? That explains some things about you.”

“Fitz has my contact name on his phone as 'internalized homophobia.’” This earns a laugh from Elena. Daisy allows herself to smile. It's better than the alternative.

“I brought you here to give you this file,” Elena says. Daisy picks it up immediately and hugs it to her chest. “Don't worry, I didn't make copies. I’m leaving tonight and S.H.I.E.L.D. is very careful about what goes in and out of here. I don't wanna get in trouble. Rather you get in trouble.”

Daisy scoffs. “Did you see the security downstairs?”

“I am so safe I almost don't feel safe.”

Now Daisy laughs, which she didn't expect to happen with Elena at all. They have pleasant conversation and even hug when Daisy leaves. Maybe Elena isn't that bad. Maybe Daisy isn't either.

*

Getting nerds high for the first time is so satisfying. Fitz is even funnier than Jemma. He and Daisy walk through a path in the woods and his eyes are huge.

“You do this...all the time?” he asks. She can't tell if he likes it.

“At least once a day, yeah,” Daisy says. “I know it's bad for me, you don't have to say it.”

“Wasn't going to say that. But yeah, it's bad for you.”

Daisy chuckles. Fitz has given up after a couple hits, which is evidently all he needed; his body is relaxed, stopping to lean against a tree. But he looks concerned and confused. Daisy touches his scruffy cheek and his eyes close as he relaxes further.

“That's nice,” he says.

“Reminds me of Lincoln,” she says. She's still smoking, and she blows smoke at the sky before she continues. “I'm seeing him again but I wanna be with Jemma.”

It's been a few days since Elena's return to campus. Daisy only sees her with Jemma, who's at least downgraded to ignoring Daisy. Not that that isn't painful. Daisy misses her so damn much. She's not even trying very hard with Lincoln anymore. He is a replacement for something better and that something is Jemma.

“She should know that,” Fitz says, nodding.

“I can't…” says Daisy. She leans against the tree too now, loving how green everything looks. She so wants to tell Jemma. Not that she wanted Jemma but that she wants her, present tense, right now.

“What if I let it slip?” Fitz says. “Plausible considering my present condition. My brain is lagging...about five meters behind me.”

Daisy's phone is already out. “No. I'll tell her.” And she texts Jemma then turns off her phone, her heart beating wildly. She finishes her joint and flicks the trash aside.

They're walking again. Fitz now firmly likes the effect of the drug, joking and giggling with Daisy. They hold hands through the forest, going into deeper brush. The campus is still visible through the trees behind them.

“Why are you with Lincoln?” Fitz asks. “I thought you hated the guy.”

“I needed somebody,” Daisy says, shrugging.

“You have me. You'll have Jemma, when she forgives you.”

“If,” she corrects him, part of her ready to give up.

“ _When_ ,” he insists, tired of the bullshit.

She pauses to pull him into a hug, which makes him stumble and fall into her. “I'm glad I have you.”

They relax together, holding each other, leaning against a larger, much older tree. Daisy’s phone is burning a hole in her pocket but if she was risky enough to send a text high, she would definitely have to reply sober. So right now it’s just her and Fitz, who no doubt is the best guy Daisy has ever known. She smiles at him thoughtfully; he looks about a mile away, his blue eyes vacant of their usual shine. She asks him what’s new in his life, since all they ever seem to talk about is Jemma.

“Mack has a crush on me and I don’t think Elena minds it,” Fitz says.

Daisy nods, then frowns. Her brain is lagging a bit too. “ _What?!_ ”

There just aren’t enough queer existential crises in one academic year, huh? It isn’t the easiest conversation to have with how confused Fitz is just physically right now but Daisy manages to get the dirt, grinning like a moron the whole time. It isn't until hours later that Jemma even sees the text from Daisy. ‘I'd rather be with you,’ it reads. Jemma texts Fitz first to learn what the hell that even means.

*

Jemma, Mack, and Elena talk a lot about girls. Sitting on the lawn eating ice cream, neglected homework on the grass. 'She’s hot. She’s pretty. Would you date her?' It’s increasingly freeing for Jemma to just let all this super gay stuff out, even if it’s with company she wouldn’t have expected. Elena is so comfortable flashing flirty smiles at gorgeous passersby; Mack just seems happy to have a girlfriend that is blase about him checking out other women.

“Don’t worry, I let my leashes go long,” Elena says, smirking.

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate on that one,” says Mack, though he suspects he knows exactly what she means.

She proves him right by saying something in Spanish which makes Mack nervously giggle. Jemma understands enough of it to blush, especially with how they’re sitting practically on top of each other. It looks uncomfortable, very flirty, very Elena. But Jemma isn’t jealous at all. Not of either of them specifically, anyway.

“So you're dating?” Jemma says. “That's weird. You know it's weird.”

“We are,” Elena says. “But how are things with Daisy?”

This ice cream is seriously refusing to be eaten in a manner that allows Jemma meticulous, constant control over its shape and size. She should’ve gotten a popsicle. The frozen, thin layer of chocolate breaks apart on the vanilla bar; she starts biting it off, which only makes the vanilla melt faster down her fingers. She’s gonna have to take a whole shower to move on from this one.

“She texted me that she'd rather be with me, which I don't…” Jemma starts, glancing at her phone. ‘Same!’ Jemma wants to reply. ‘Ditto!’ Even if they haven’t seen each other, and the rare sight of Daisy often causes her distress, the thought of her…

But it’s too late. She shakes her head, frowning more deeply at Elena’s concerned expression. “Good on her for catching up,” Jemma continues. “But she doesn't understand that I can't forgive her until your arms are fully healed.”

“You don't have to do that for me,” Elena insists. It’s almost scary to see her get suddenly serious.

“I'm doing it for me,” Jemma says, voice softening as well. “It has to be that way.”

“ _Has_ to be?” Mack interrupts, but Jemma moves right past it. She does not have time to divulge her diagnosis to a man that probably already has more information on it than anyone who isn’t Jemma’s doctors should.

“Besides, she's snogging her ex again!” Jemma adds, raising her hands in defeat. “According to Fitz. And she doesn't even like Lincoln!”

Jemma picks up her phone. She writes and rewrites a strongly-worded text message, while her ice cream melts on its own plastic cover on the grass. Eventually, she settles on this for a reply: ‘Elena's arms are hurting more after physical therapy.’ Then she stares at her phone and waits for Daisy to reply, or herself to grow the courage to say more. Maybe more angry things. Maybe an I miss you. Anything.

“I can't stand Daisy either,” Mack says into the silence.

“Thanks, Mack,” Jemma says with a nod.

“Wow, my ex and my boyfriend hate the person who hurt me,” says Elena, rolling her eyes. “What a shock.”

*

Counter to intuitive expectation, living in the same dorm building as someone - even if you have intuited their schedule into your subconscious - does not necessarily mean bumping into them all of the time. The circumstances still have to be right, stars aligned and all that. The stars in this case are Lincoln heading for the vending machine, in a nook at the end of the hall; Daisy waiting for him by the staircase, in the middle of the hall; and the elevator breaking down, forcing Jemma to climb up the stairs from the basement with her laundry basket.

Daisy bursts through the staircase door the second she catches a glimpse of someone remotely resembling Jemma through the window. The tight quarters of the square staircase is an awkward place for a conversation but a pleasant place won’t stop their conversation from being awkward.

“Okay, I'm a jerk!” Daisy says.

Jemma falls against the wall in shock, almost dropping her basket. “I'm aware!”

“I should've understood how much that night would affect you,” Daisy says. She’s speaking so quickly because she expects Jemma to walk away. But Jemma stands there, that anger in her flared nostrils again, tightening parts of her otherwise soft face. “I know how you felt about Elena,” she continues, “even though I never heard it from you. And I’ve seen the way OCD affects your relationships.”

There are two types of people that interact with Jemma’s mental disorder: nervous avoiders and angry detractors. Either she’s a delicate, deranged flower or an unreasonable, stubborn bitch. She's so stuck in her head thinking about how Daisy doesn't treat her like either of those that she almost forgets to reply.

“I...should've understood how things were between you and Lincoln,” Jemma says, hoisting her laundry basket up higher on her hip. “Back together, are we?”

“We're just hanging out,” Daisy says, softly, glancing at the door.

"Not what Fitz said. You work fast."

She starts up the stairs and Daisy follows dutifully. At the next landing, halfway to the next floor, Jemma pauses and turns around, frowning.

"What do you need me to do?" Daisy asks. "Please tell me. I'm… I feel lost."

"Not my problem," Jemma says. "Go ask your boyfriend."

"I don't want to."

As if on cue (perhaps because he was listening), Lincoln opens the door to the staircase. Daisy takes a step down and Jemma turns away.

"Hey," says Daisy, offering Lincoln a smile. "You good?"

"I left my wallet in your room, could you go get it?" Lincoln says.

Daisy bites her lip. Looking back at Jemma would just be painful. "Sure. Meet me at the parking lot, I'm gonna grab something else."

Daisy runs down and Jemma walks up. When Daisy's out of sight, Lincoln skips steps to the next landing; Jemma's already stopped where she is, getting the hint.

Lincoln takes a moment to size Jemma up as her frown deepens. "You planning on getting in the way again?" he asks.

Jemma scoffs. "Oh, lower your testosterone," she says. She switches the basket to her other hip as she skips. "She's all yours."

After a serious nod and a suspicious glare, Lincoln heads down. Another encounter of the awkward kind, hopefully the last of the day. She walks up feeling annoyed and tired.

The final star to align is Jemma’s clumsiness. On the last step to the third floor, she trips and loses half the contents of her basket. This won’t devastate most people, Jemma reasons. It’s an accident; a mistake. The few garments that fell will be rewashed and everything will be fine. It doesn’t matter that she’s on edge from Lincoln or that her sadness over Daisy is compounded by it all. She can just pick these things up and...and… What would she do with them? What will she do? They're dirty now, they're wrong. She's wasted the last few hours. Everything is wrong.

“Hey, hey…”

Jemma recognizes the voice as Daisy’s. It takes her longer to recognize that she’s just stood there, holding her laundry basket, watching her clothes on the floor and imagining them getting more and more dirty by the second. She has nowhere to put them for the remaining flight of stairs. She can’t put them with her clean clothes. She needs it to just go away. And it does, slowly, into a plastic bag Daisy pulled from her purse. Jemma watches, confused and overwhelmed and the little building panic attack dispersing before it could do damage.

The edges of the universe are no longer fading to black. In front of Jemma is Daisy, holding the bag she’d just filled. It’s overstuffed but everything is in it.

“Thanks,” Jemma says. She takes the offered plastic bag, carefully hoists up the basket, and starts up again.

“Jemma...please...”

That choked up sound in her voice forces Jemma to turn around. Daisy has tunnel vision now, too, and it’s all for Jemma. She tries to think logically instead of with her emotions, which isn’t her forte. But Jemma is very logical and calculated; if Daisy can’t convince her that she deserves forgiveness then she’ll never be convinced. And Daisy will have to seek forgiveness elsewhere.

“Lincoln's waiting,” says Jemma, which earns a quick response.

“I don't care.” Daisy takes a step up the stairs, closing the gap between them. “You haven't given me another chance and I want to…” She pauses for someone to walk past them and waits to hear another door shut before continuing. “Don't we deserve a chance?”

“For what?” Jemma says, putting her basket down with a bit more force than warranted. “An on and off relationship with someone who attracts drama like the sun attracts the flowers of Asteraceae?”

Daisy takes a moment to process that and laughs. Jemma can’t help smiling. Neither of them want to fight right now. But if this is the only way they ever talk these days… This brief moment of happy between them is so cathartic and good and needed.

"I swear I don't love the drama," Daisy quips. “It loves me.”

"Are you sure?" Jemma folds her arms, raises her eyebrows. Smiling slightly.

"So I'm the bad guy? Like you weren't hooking up with Elena behind my back, hiding it as if it wasn't obvious."

"I wasn't hiding it, I just never said anything," Jemma corrects her. It's a weak argument, they both know it; Daisy's pursed lips say as much. So Jemma tries to explain why she kept it to herself. "I wanted you and you weren't there," she says softly. "You wouldn't have entertained the idea."

A final step onto the next floor and Daisy is right in front of Jemma, inches away. Jemma takes in a sharp breath.

"I'm here now, Jemma," Daisy says. "And if you were still upset with me over Elena, her getting better and her forgiving me would’ve made us okay. So what’s really happening right now?"

The last time they were this close was at the party. Then she was crying, explaining to Fitz what almost happened. They heard the commotion on the street and Jemma saw the two women she was closest to both past out, looking like ants all those stories down.

"If you’d kissed me instead of running away…" Jemma starts. It doesn't even occur to her until she says it. If Daisy had kissed her, she never would’ve left the party. If Jemma hadn't tried to kiss her, she never would’ve left the party.

"I know," Daisy says, nods. She's almost glad that Jemma has tears in her eyes; it makes it less embarrassing to have them in her own. "And I’ll beat myself up about it for the rest of my life, I’m sure."

Jemma shakes her head slightly, her frown growing as she reaches for the less vulnerable righteous anger. "So what? You think because you’re suddenly self-aware we can just hold hands and be a couple now?"

"Why not?" says Daisy. She doesn't even flinch when a couple of girls walk by, definitely overhearing. "Because we're both girls?"

"Because you're you," says Jemma. She picks her basket. "Because you've been pretending to be someone you're not for so long you're barely a person."

"That's not fair. I’ve… You don’t know-"

"How's this for a reason, then. I don't love you anymore."

Their eyes are locked for a few seconds while that sinks in. Then Jemma makes a sharp turn and storms out. Daisy takes in a deep, shaky breath. That's that, then. She walks like a forgetful zombie, blinking to disperse the wetness in her eyes and barely taking in her surroundings as she drags her feet. She almost misses Lincoln, who heads toward her with a frown.

“What took you?” he asks.

"I, um...I saw this pile of homework in my room," Daisy says, pointing back with her thumb. It isn’t a total lie; the best ones never are. "I shouldn't go out tonight.”

He scoffs. "Since when do you do homework?”

_Since Jemma made me give a fuck?_ “I'm graduating,” she says instead. “It's important.”

“This isn't about Jemma?” Lincoln takes Daisy’s hand gingerly and pulls her close against him. She looks away and he kisses her cheek. “Everyone thinks you two were a thing.”

“I'm- I'm not…” Daisy rests her cheek against his. “We were always just friends.”

“Thought so. I wouldn't believe those rumors about my girlfriend. That's what you are, right?”

She stays against him, comforted by the familiarity. Then she does what she thinks she should: hugs him, kisses him, smiles and nods. She goes back to her dorm room, alone. She doesn’t notice Jemma watching from a hall window on her floor, wrecked and regretful. She sends Fitz a text. He comes over to hear her rant, and hatch a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Guess which emo legends and worldwide popstar I was listening to while writing this.~~
> 
> Happy pride! This story will have a happy ending, which will come out sometime in the next week. Thanks to those of you that have stuck around this long! Comments are loved <3


	10. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Jemma's birthday and there's only one person she wants to see. Some people play cupid for their friends. Daisy makes an important decision.

Another week without Jemma, another week of trying to forgive herself. Daisy is the most important person in her own life, after all. Way more important than Lincoln, whose spending too much time in the bathroom after their shitty date to Taco Bell. She takes the chance to make a call, a note from Fitz in her hand.

“Hey,” she says when it goes straight to voicemail. “It's Daisy. Obviously.” She rolls her eyes and smiles a bit. Even just hearing Jemma’s voice on the answering machine has lifted her spirits some, and the nerves she has just make her feel silly. “Listen, I know we’re not exactly…"

No. No more. This isn’t about Daisy, this is about Jemma. This scrawled invitation in Fitz’s handwriting promising this party will finally be the chance they get to truly be friends again is nice, and she wants to believe it. But even more than that, she just wants Jemma to be happy.

“I wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday so...happy birthday,” Daisy continues, with so much more feeling than she expected. “I love you and I hope you’re okay. And if that’s okay without me…”

The toilet flushes and Daisy sighs. She has to wrap this up. She wants to call again to hear Jemma’s voice, since she isn't sure she’ll actually see her tonight. She’s not a party crasher. She’s finally taken the hint.

“If you’re doing better without me, I’m happy for you,” Daisy says quickly. She chuckles. “I’m sure you are. Well... Bye.”

She puts her phone down just as Lincoln opens the door to his room. She hopes he hadn’t heard any of that. This past week with him has been surreal. He’s cute and a good kisser, but there’s also an aura around him that leaves Daisy uneasy. She’s not sure what it is.

“Who were you talking to?” Lincoln says, sitting with her and taking her hand.

“Fitz,” she replies. Lincoln kisses her hand and her brow furrows. “We, uh, have plans in a bit.”

“But you're hanging out with me.”

He kisses her shoulder, her neck, her jaw. She takes a breath and pats his leg. “I've been hanging out with you all day, cowboy.”

“Cancel your plans.” Before she can react to the shock of receiving that demand, he kisses her hard on the lips with a firm hold on her jaw. “I'm your boyfriend,” he adds, too proud of that statement.

Daisy scoffs, shoves him away, and stands up. There goes the last straw. She’s not staying in his stupid apartment just because he’s her boyfriend. Sure she lied, but she’d rather spend time with Fitz anyway. She doesn’t need to have a stupid boyfriend to not feel lonely. She was invited to a party.

“You know what?” Daisy says, allowing herself a pleased smile to match Lincoln’s. “No. You're not.”

That smile of his fades. “What?”

“I’m leaving, dude. You suck. You make me suck.”

“I'm sorry.” He stands quickly and tries to grab her arm but she turns away. “I didn't mean--”

“I don't care,” she says. “This is the last time we break up. Goodbye, Lincoln.”

Lincoln follows her around as she puts on her shoes and grabs her things. She tells him to mail her her stuff and leaves. She walks a few blocks then takes a cab back to campus. Sitting in the back, trying to figure out what she should be feeling, she ends up smiling.

*

Most events that occur in the Boiler Room are not for an individual. Sci-Tech students celebrates discoveries and breakthroughs by cadets; they unwind before big testing weeks; they celebrate holidays. Most nights, it's just a bar. But when the valedictorian, who actually has more friends and acquaintances than she lets on, has a birthday coming up, it's a perfect excuse to break the norm. Jemma Simmons passed her field test with flying colors. She already has a job lined up at Sci-Ops. It was a no brainer, throwing this party for her. Even if she's been acting kind of weird lately.

A few of Jemma's lab partners are helping Jemma's friends set up the Boiler Room for a birthday party; balloons and streamers and the like. Fitz and Elena argue about the guest list.

"You invited Daisy?" Elena asks. She's mostly supervising; her arms are still weak.

"I sure did," Fitz says from atop a ladder.

Elena sits on the ladder step to weigh it down. She folds her arms slowly. "Jemma hates Daisy now," she says.

"They always do this. They'll get back to each other soon."

Elena's not so sure about that but she hopes so. "As long as Lincoln doesn't decide to show up," she says. " _Ese malvado_ loves ruining our fun."

Being in the boiler room, the entrance to the party is up some metal steps and through a heavy door. In the relative silence of the preparation, the door opening and shutting is quite noticeable. Mack coming through the door draws Fitz's attention...and Mack in a tight shirt, flashing a smile, keeps it.

"Speaking of weirdos, your boyfriend is here!" Fitz says, starting down the ladder.

Elena stands but keeps her foot on the ladder. Fitz pays more attention to Mack descending than himself and stumbles down a bit before landing at the bottom. There, Fitz is faced with a smirking Elena.

"You know what polyamory is, right?" she asks.

"Etymologically?" says Fitz. "Yes."

"I’ll go get Jemma. You chat with Mack." Elena winks and pats Fitz's arm. "Yes?"

Elena twirls away before Fitz can say anything else, not that he knows what the heck to say to that. She kisses Mack at the bottom of the stairs, they have a quick chat. Then he approaches Fitz, who's suddenly very nervous and trying not to stare at Mack's chest and arms and wow he has a nice face too. What is even happening.

"Hey, Fitzy," says Mack. "How can I help?"

"Uh…" Fitz points behind him at the pool table of decorations. "You can… D-do you, are y- Elena just-"

"She's trying to hook us up, yeah."

Fitz raises his eyebrows. "And you're…?"

"Going with the flow," Mack says with a shrug. But his frown gives away some of his concern. "Seeing her in the hospital changed my perspective on some things. Life's too short, you know."

Fitz nods. "Yeah. Yeah…" For a moment they just stare at one another, two boys that have never been with boys but also don't wanna look away from each other. The moment Mack breaks eye contact and his eyes trace down, Fitz makes a 180 turn on his heel. "So, we have a few more party favors to scatter about."

Mack follows him to the pool table. Nothing is going to happen between them without Elena around. But she'll be around later.

*

_"Hey. It's Daisy. Obviously. Listen, I know we’re not exactly…_

_"I wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday so...happy birthday. I love you and I hope you’re okay. And if that’s okay without me…”_

It's the third time in a row listening to this voicemail and that pause just makes Jemma tear up more. But she can't mess up her makeup so she definitely won't listen again. Even though all she wants to do is hear Daisy's voice.

_“If you’re doing better without me, I’m happy for you. I’m sure you are. Well... Bye.”_

She presses play again immediately. She puts her phone on speaker and closes her eyes. She imagines Daisy sitting in front of her and saying this in person, even if it doesn't make sense that way. When the voicemail ends, there's a knock at the door.

Her eyes shoot open. She picks up her purse, slowly stands from her desk, and goes to answer.

"You're early," she says.

"We're almost done setting up," says Elena. She smiles a little sadly, and they both know she heard the message. Thankfully she says nothing about it and pulls Jemma into a hug.

"Hi," Jemma says, squeezing her friend tightly. "I hate that my surprise party isn't a surprise."

Pulling away, Elena scoffs. "And would you not be more upset, if we actually tried to surprise you?"

"Good point."

"We got you figured out, Simmons."

They meander around campus, walking hand-in-hand, and eventually to the Boiler Room. Jemma insists on pushing the heavy door open. Even expecting it, having dozens of people shout "SURPRISE!" makes her jump. They cheer for her, lighted by the colorful strobes, and Jemma smiles, teary eyed.

"This is nice," she says, taking in the decor and familiar faces. "Thank you for all this."

Surrounded by love and ready to have fun, Jemma mingles and dances and talks to anyone that wants to. Daisy's at the back of her mind; she's planning what to tell her in a reply. Should she call? A text seems not enough. She pulls Fitz aside when she's had enough suffering in silence and confides in him about her predicament.

"I can't just ignore her," she says. "I mean, I have been. But I don't want to anymore. And her message was so sweet."

"I think you'll figure it out," Fitz says. He takes her hand. "Right now, let's just dance."

She takes a deep breath and nods. After an awkward but fun dance with him, she's pulled into a discussion with some folks from her lab. Fitz goes to grab them drinks. He takes the chance to send some texts.

'Come to the party!'

Daisy, who had definitely been staring at her phone like a sad puppy, responds, 'Jemma won’t want me there. Stop harassing me about it!'

'STOP BEING SO THICK!' Fitz follows that up shortly after with, 'Get cute. It’s not that hard for you. And be at the Boiler Room soon or I’LL never forgive you.'

'Wow, fuck you. I’ll be there. Yeesh.'

She debated going to the party for hours so she's already dressed. She wears flats so she can get to the party as soon as possible. Outside, the ground shakes a bit beneath her; she focuses and stops the quakes, willing her nerves not to ruin everything yet again. She's gonna see Jemma.

And Jemma sees her, almost immediately after she arrives, because Fitz has his eyes on the door. He apologizes to the people Jemma is speaking to and pulls her away. He squeezes her hand and points to the stairs. Unfamiliar with the Boiler Room, Daisy has her eyes glued to the unusual steps below her thin shoes. When she steps off, she makes a beeline for the bar.

"Daisy?" Jemma says, seeing the real surprise of the night.

"I invited her," Fitz says. Jemma's mouth falls open. "I know how much you've missed her...and she's missed you."

"You really are the best friend I've ever had," Jemma says, fighting back tears yet again tonight. Birthdays are emotional.

Fitz grins. "Shut up and go talk to her."

The moment their eyes meet, it’s clear Fitz had the right idea. Jemma’s walls had been weakening, crumbling and cracking but not falling down, until her existential thoughts upon another anniversary really put everything into perspective. And seeing Daisy, Jemma just lets her instincts take over. She smiles so brightly and takes the quickest path toward her. Daisy turns away from the bar with a cup and her travelling gaze lands on Jemma. She feels the biggest relief at the sight of her, happy and gorgeous as ever. She meets her halfway and they stand in front of each other, grinning like only the two happiest people in the room could.

“Happy birthday,” Daisy says.

“I got your message,” says Jemma. “It was nice to hear you.”

“Yeah? I'm glad... I hope you're not drunk right now."

Jemma shows her the clear contents of her solo cup. "Haven't had a drop of alcohol since the tea," she admits.

"Good for you," says Daisy. She takes a quick, nervous breath and gets to the point. “I broke up with Lincoln. He's a total asshole.”

Jemma narrows her eyes. “Is that why you're here?”

“Hell no. I'm here because I've been dying to see you and Fitz threatened me.”

They laugh together. It feels so good to laugh together again. Jemma picks something off Daisy’s sleeve. They drift closer together like celestial bodies attracted to each other’s gravity. Maybe these are the stars that needed to align: Daisy believing herself worthy of forgiveness, and Jemma finally ready to forgive.

"I lied when I said I didn't love you," Jemma says, allowing herself a shy smile. She reaches her free hand for Daisy's and they play with each other's fingers.

"Yeah?" says Daisy, relieved when Jemma nods. "From one liar to another… I left that party because I was scared. I'm still scared. I don't even know how to explain what's scaring me." She properly takes Jemma's hand and gives it a squeeze. "But I wanna give this a try. If- if you...still want me?"

"Is that really what you want?"

"Absolutely. More than anything. I’ve never fought this hard for someone."

They're practically chest to chest, holding hands, in the middle of a room full of people they know, and Daisy has never been more sure of something.

"I can't lose you again," Jemma says softly.

"You won't have to," Daisy says. "I promise."

"Then, to us."

Jemma raises her cup and Daisy clinks it. They share big toothy smiles for a few seconds and then hug, tight and warm, as close as they can possibly get. Daisy still smells like stale weed and Jemma's hands on her shoulders smell like hand sanitizer. The familiarity is comforting.

"This is the best birthday present," Jemma says.

"I’m glad I could be that," Daisy says. Seconds later, they're on the dancefloor.

*

It’s not a proper night for the Frantic Five without some drama threatening the day. Partygoers are dispersing, while some drunkenly linger and others help clean. Jemma and Daisy stand against the bar, drinking gin and tonics, catching up. They're giggly, and daringly flirty, Daisy touching Jemma's hair and Jemma touching Daisy's wrist. Fitz and Elena share a pleased smile. The music is off and the door into the boiler room slamming shut draws everyone's attention.

It's Lincoln and he doesn't look happy. He sees how close and flirty Jemma and Daisy are and descends the steps quickly; each hard step on the metal produces sparks. Mack stands from his seat at the bar and takes a position between Lincoln and the girls. Jemma starts to move away but Daisy squeezes her shoulder, rubs her arm, soothes her.

"Hi, Daisy," Lincoln says, not even looking at Mack.

"Lincoln," says Daisy. Jemma pays close attention to Daisy's expression to make sure she's okay. "Go home."

"I will not!" Lincoln looks around the room. "I hate S.H.I.E.L.D. You guys are so fucked up."

"Hi, pot," Elena says. "We're kettle." She turns to whisper to Fitz. "Did I use that correctly?" He bites back a laugh and nods.

"I know all about you," Lincoln says, looking at Elena now. "Using your powers to manipulate and harass people."

Elena scoffs. "I almost never do that."

"And Agent Mackenzie." Now Lincoln glares at his old boss. "A spy from another agency."

"Someone's gotta be," Mack says with a shrug.

"It's a wonder they trust you at all."

A bravery that's grown in the past few months, unbeknownst to her, urges Jemma to pipe in. She will not have her night ruined by this jerk. "Drop it, Lincoln, you're an eyesore," she says, getting a chuckle from Daisy.

"Jemma! My favorite." Lincoln claps his hands together, another spark appearing between them, and takes a step forward. "Acting all innocent and cute," he continues, "just dying for someone to fawn over you. I know you've been sleeping with my girlfriend."

"I never cheated on you and I'm not even your girlfriend," Daisy says.

"Shut up, Daisy! You're gay. You like girls. Now everyone knows."

Maybe a few weeks ago, this would've devastated Daisy. And she can tell by the triumphant expression on his face that this is what he expects. But she doesn't care. She almost wants to yell it from the rooftops, holding Jemma's hand; just let everyone know how much she loves her. And the way everyone reacts, a nonchalant chorus in the affirmative, tells her that everyone still left - even those she doesn't know personally - already knew. The cat's out of the closet.

"I don't know about liking girls," Daisy says, "and that’s no one’s business except my own. But I will tell you I like this girl." She takes Jemma's hand and smiles at her...girlfriend? Yeah. "I like this girl a lot."

There are definitely a few "aww's" in the room, including from Fitz, as Jemma smiles the biggest smile and moves closer to Daisy. They press into each other and Daisy kisses Jemma's temple.

"Clearly, none of what you just said has any effect on this fucked up group of friends so you can move right along," Mack says, smirking when Lincoln's frown deepens. Less anger, more sadness. With a shake of his head and a huff, he starts back up the stairs.

"If you come near us again, Daisy's gonna break you in half!" Elena calls after him.

"I can do that," Daisy says. "I almost broke her in half."

"It was cool."

"No it wasn't," Jemma says, covering her face with her hands. Daisy pulls her into a hug.

"It was a bad joke, baby."

"Terrible joke."

"A terrible joke."

Once Lincoln's gone, they temporarily restart the party. Fitz turns on the music and sits at the bar with Mack while the girls dance in a circle, holding hands. Good thing it's a Friday because Jemma and Daisy don't head back to the dorms until well into the night. Daisy holds Jemma's heels and Jemma's hand. They're giggly and tipsy, walking through campus and through their dorm. When they get to Jemma's room, they don't want to say goodnight. They hold hands and smile at each other.

"Thanks for coming to my party," Jemma says after a few smitten minutes. Of staring and smiling and playing with each others' hands in an absent minded manner.

"Thanks for letting me walk you home," Daisy says.

Neither wants to have their first kiss drunk so Jemma doesn't stop Daisy when she steps back, fingers clinging. "Usual place tomorrow?" Jemma says once the touch is gone. "Threeish?"

Daisy nods. "See you then."

"Yeah. See you soon."

*

It's a few weeks before graduation and the sun has the campus feeling alive and warm. Jemma still wears long pants for this date; no bug will make contact with her legs. She finds it surprisingly easy to track down Daisy's smoke spot. Daisy's already there, looking out at the road that leaves campus, and she grins when she hears Jemma come up.

"Hey, you," Daisy says, scooting over on the log.

"Hi, Daisy." Jemma sits beside her and they instinctually move closer together.

"How was your night?" Daisy asks.

"Excellent. Yours?"

"Phenomenal. What do you wanna do now?"

Jemma narrows her eyes, looking thoughtful. "There's one thing I'd really like to do with you," she says, grinning.

Daisy presses her forehead to Jemma's, eyes falling closed. Jemma lets Daisy take the lead, giving her all the time she wants. She remembers her first kiss with a girl and how nerve-wracking that was. How good it was. With Daisy, it's even better. She doesn't wait long to finally kiss Jemma; they'd waited long enough. Their lips move together for a moment, and this longing that had bubbled under the surface for months has them surging closer. Jemma's hand in Daisy's hair, Daisy's clutching her side. When they part from the short, intense kiss, they stay close and catch their breath, smiling contentedly. Until Daisy pulls away to reach into her pocket.

"We should do that more," Daisy says, bringing out a cigarette pack. She takes something out of it that is not a regular cigarette. "After a smoke?"

"I've got nothing better to do," Jemma quips, earning a nudge and laugh from Daisy.

They get high together. They kiss some more. They share a pair headphones. They hold hands and have not a care in the world as the sun shines through the trees and brightens their space. For a little while, alone in the woods together, the only thing that matters is each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Skimmons fic complete! I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Leave a comment to let me now what you loved (or hated). And check back when season six is over; I intend to write more for my favorite girls.
> 
> Happy pride <3


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